It's Gonna Get Ghostly
by PaperKayak
Summary: As a new school year begins in Amity Park, Danny Fenton finds himself dodging the new paranormal researcher in town, while befriending the man's great-niece and nephew. But with nightmares and new threats lurking on the horizon, keeping secrets from a nosy scientist will soon be the least of the ghost boy's worries.
1. Chapter 1

This story is set a year after the finale of Gravity Falls, and about a year after the beginning of Danny Phantom. No Phantom Planet, and no prominent ships.

Disclaimer: I own Danny Phantom and Gravity Falls. Yes, you read that right. I own them. Me. I own most things, actually. Butch Hartman and Alex Hirsch? Never heard of 'em.

* * *

"Geez, Danny, sleep much?" Tucker asked when his friend opened the front door of Fentonworks to greet him and Sam on the front step.

Danny groaned and rubbed at his eyes. He had been sure that the cold shower he'd taken this morning, combined with the two cups of coffee that had made up his breakfast, would have done a decent job of disguising his exhaustion, but apparently there was no helping the bags under his eyes.

"Three guesses why," he grumbled. "And the first two don't count."

"So which ghost was it this time?" Sam asked as they began walking. Danny had shut the door behind them, and the three began making their way down the street to the nearest office supply store within walking distance. The group had put off their school supply shopping until the very last minute, having been preoccupied with other, more ghostly concerns, and now, the day before the beginning of the school year, they had finally made plans to stock up. Considering how poor a rapport Danny had with his teachers anyway, he did not want to be that kid who showed up on the first day at school without so much as a pencil.

"The Box Ghost at first," Danny answered Sam's question. "Started up around midnight. Apparently someone down the street threw out a refrigerator box and he had a field day."

Tucker snorted. "Naturally. But I'm assuming the Box Ghost didn't keep you up until all hours of the night?"

"Nah, I got rid of him pretty quick. Apparently, though, the noise got Skulker's attention, and he decided he wanted to play tag for a while. Honestly, you'd think after nearly a year, this would start to get boring for him."

"Well, to be fair, he is a ghost," Sam said with a shrug. "He's got all the time in the world to kill. How late did Skulker keep you out, then?"

"About an hour more, give or take?"

Sam frowned. "That still would've given you, what, six hours to rest? You look like you've gotten two at most."

"Yeah, well – " Danny sighed and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I kinda had trouble sleeping."

Tucker scoffed. "Trouble sleeping? This from the guy who once slept through an explosion in chemistry class. Look, if you were on Youtube until five in the morning, you can just admit it. We've all been there."

"I wasn't," Danny said, shooting Tucker a mild glare. "I actually fell asleep pretty much right after I got home at first. But, after that, I kinda – I got sort of a weird dream."

"Oh, I see. The one where all your teeth fall out and Dash makes you eat them?" Tucker asked sympathetically.

"What? No, not – "

"The one where you're doing a class presentation while naked? The one where you forget how to fly mid-battle? The one where you're lost in the Ghost Zone? Ooh, tell me it was the one with Paulina and the balloon animals!"

Danny groaned. "Okay, new school year resolution: from now on, I tell Tucker things only on a need-to-know basis."

"You don't mean that."

"Seriously, Danny," Sam interrupted. "What was it? You know, you might want to check with Jazz if you're having nightmares."

"It wasn't a nightmare," Danny said, shaking his head. "Not really. It was just, you know – weird."

"How so?"

Danny furrowed his brow in concentration as he tried to recall the details of the dream. "Well, it started off pretty ordinary, just me flying around Amity Park in ghost form. But then, I start seeing this, ah, this _thing_ , just out of the corner of my eye. And it looks like an eye, just a big yellow floating eye in the sky. At least, I think it does. 'Cause when I turn to look at it, it vanishes.

"So, I just keep flying, but it keeps popping up, right there on the edge of my vision. And it's starting to get on my nerves, because I can feel it watching me and all, and I know it's there, but I can't quite see it, so I start shooting ectoblasts at it. Doesn't do a lick of good, of course. I keep that up for a while, and I'm just getting angrier and angrier, and then I start shouting at it. Like, 'I know you're there! Come out and show yourself!' And then there was this sort of… chuckle, this laugh, right next to my ear."

"…And then?" Sam prompted after Danny paused.

"Then nothing. That's it. I woke up."

"Hmm. Doesn't sound all that bad," Tucker said. "I've had weirder dreams than that."

"So have I," Danny replied. "I guess it wasn't the dream so much as afterward. I kept trying to get back to sleep but, I dunno, some effect of the dream must have been lingering or something. I felt like I was being watched. And it's really tough to sleep like that."

Sam chewed her lip in thought as they walked. "I wonder… you don't think this is some ghost thing, do you? Like, a new power, premonition? Maybe you got some kind of vision of a ghost who's coming to Amity Park soon, and that's what you saw in the dream."

"A ghost whose power is watching people and sort-of-but-not-quite letting people see them?" Danny asked skeptically.

"Dude, worst ghost power ever," Tucker deadpanned. "Of all time."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I'm just spitballing. It might've just been a meaningless weird dream."

"Maybe it was stress-induced," Tucker suggested. "I mean, what with the school year starting up. Going back to the homework and Dash and tests and detentions and Lancer and school lunches and early morning. Can't blame a person for getting a little loopy."

"Not to mention the whole deal about your ghost problems," Sam added. "Speaking of which, any news on that researcher guy?"

Tucker frowned in confusion and glanced from Sam to Danny. "What researcher guy? Why haven't I heard of this?"

"Because I only found out last night," Danny answered, "And I was texting Sam while you were too busy speed-running Doomed to pick up your phone."

"Fair enough. Doesn't answer my first question. What researcher guy?"

"Some professor or something who's just moved to Amity Park," Danny answered through a sigh. "Apparently he's some sort of expert on the paranormal, or so he claims. My parents met him yesterday and it seems he's interested in their 'research'. They're planning on collaborating on some projects now. Which means I'm gonna have another ghost hunter in the house. Can you sense my overwhelming joy?"

"Huh," Tucker said, tapping his chin pensively. "Did you get this guy's name?"

"Uh, I don't remember," Danny said. He looked to Sam, but she just shrugged and replied, "You didn't tell me one."

"I think it had something to do with a tree," Danny continued after a moment's thought. "I remember thinking about that when my parents mentioned him."

"Is it Professor Oak?" Tucker asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes, Tucker," Danny answered flatly. "A Pokémon character moved to Amity Park and wants to work on research with my parents. And I forgot about it."

"A guy can dream," Tucker grumbled. "So, what was it, maple? Aspen? Elm?"

"Beech?" Sam joined in. "Hickory? Walnut?"

"Tulip? Sycamore?"

"Spruce? Pine? Fir?"

Danny snapped his fingers. "Pine! That was it. No, hang on… Pines. Something Pines. Don't remember the first name at all though."

"Don't worry, I'm already on it," Tucker said, and indeed, he had his PDA in hand and was typing on it, staring intently at the screen. The group stopped walking as Danny and Sam waited for Tucker to finish whatever he was doing. After a minute or so, Tucker held up the device so the others could see.

Sam and Danny leaned in toward the screen. A bibliography of journal publications was listed next to a photograph of a square-jawed, gray-haired man in glasses smiling faintly toward the camera. "Stanford F. Pines, Ph.D.," Sam read aloud. "Recently returned from a nine-month expedition in the Arctic Mediterranean, Pines has published findings on several newly-discovered reptilian species found to inhabit conditions previously thought unsurvivable by living beings. Pines is a longtime contributor, a researcher of anomalistic phenomena. Previous publications include research regarding extradimensional theory, anatomical abnormalities, and phantasmic beings."

"Phantasmic beings," Danny repeated. "So he _is_ a ghost nut. So, do you think this Pines person is a Guys in White operative, or does he just dissect ghosts on his own dime? Place your bets now."

Sam shut off the screen of the PDA and handed it back to Tucker, then motioned for the group to continue their walk. "Don't worry about him, Danny. Look, the school year's about to start, and this guy will probably be working with your parents during the day. And if not, well, you spend half your free time at mine or Tucker's place anyway. Odds are you'll barely see this guy."

"I'm not so much concerned about me seeing _him_. I just don't want him seeing _me_."

Tucker punched Danny lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, you've dealt with people like him before, right? Who cares if he's an 'expert'. People call your parents experts, and you've been getting by just fine right under their noses for almost a year."

"That's true…"

"Yeah, listen to him, Danny," Sam said, giving him a light smile. "Just don't make any big scenes when he's around, then just wait it out until your parents scare him off. We're here, by the way," she added as they turned the corner and reached the storefront they were looking for. "You got the supply list, Tuck?"

"Right here," Tucker answered, waving his PDA. He put his hand on Danny's shoulder and steered him toward the store. "Here you go, something more important to be concentrating on. If there's anything you should be worried about, it's Sophomore Literature with Lancer. Trust me, in a few weeks, you'll have forgotten all about this Stanford Pines."


	2. Chapter 2

A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or followed! I was absolutely floored to see this story get such a positive response so quickly. Here's hoping I manage to live up to hype!

* * *

"You've been quiet," Jazz said, glancing over at her brother in the passenger seat without taking her eyes fully off the road. "Worried about heading back to school?"

"Eh, not worried," Danny answered with a shrug. He had his arm resting on the car door's armrest, his hand up to cradle his chin and his forehead pressed to the glass of the window – the quintessential 'I'm in this car because I have to be, not because I want to be' posture. "More annoyed than anything. Fighting ghosts during the summer was a lot easier. Not having to sneak out of class all the time or worry about oversleeping. I'm gonna miss that."

Jazz offered him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, I can see why that would get you down. If it helps, I'm only taking four AP classes this year instead of five, so I'll have a little more spare time to hunt. That could ease the burden a bit."

"Right. I'm sure that will make a world of difference."

"It's a little early in the morning to be that sarcastic, Danny," Jazz said, rolling her eyes. "It'll help, I swear. And, hey, a couple of the new weapons Mom and Dad have been working on these past couple of weeks have been getting pretty efficient. I mean, I know that's going to be a problem when they start trying to use them on Phantom, but if we snatch up a couple of them, it would help our productivity too. Good news, bad news, I guess."

Danny lifted his head away from the window and turned to Jazz, one brow raised. "I didn't even know they'd made any new weapons."

"Well, you haven't been in the lab much either," Jazz pointed out, "What with your whole vow to spend as much of the summer out of the house as possible. But yes, they've been poring those blueprints non-stop trying to get the designs right."

"I suppose that's one of the things that new researcher going to be helping them with?"

"Might be. They didn't exactly give us much detail about him between last night and now." She slowed the car to a stop as they hit a red light, which gave her a chance to turn to her brother fully. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"

Danny frowned at her and innocently asked, "Why would I be worried?"

"Maybe because having someone in the house who's supposed to be some sort of genius about the supernatural could present certain complications when it comes to keeping certain secrets?"

"Only if he decides to study me," Danny replied. "So, my plan is to just avoid him. It's not like he's going to be working with Mom and Dad forever, right? It'll probably just be a few weeks."

"Well, you're at least going to have to _meet_ him. You know how enthusiastic Dad gets about introducing us to his colleagues."

"Then I'll politely shake his hand and _not_ introduce myself as a half-ghost. Crisis averted. The light's green, by the way."

Jazz sighed and turned back to face the road as the car started up again. "Okay, so you have the researcher all figured out. You're still worried about _something_ , though."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, for one thing, I heard you mumbling in your sleep last night. You only do that when you're stressed."

Danny scowled at her. "How would you have heard me? Our walls aren't that thin. Jazz, tell me you haven't been spying on me."

"I get curious," she answered simply.

Danny groaned and slumped in his seat. "I swear to God, I have got the nosiest sister to ever exist."

"It's the universe making up for the fact that you have oblivious parents. Do you have an explanation for the mumbling?"

"Well, I mean – I dunno, I've been having a bit of trouble sleeping lately, I guess."

Jazz shot him a curious frown. "And why do you think that is?"

"Not sure. Maybe subconscious knew my sister wanted to psychoanalyze me and decided it wanted to give her a challenge."

"Har har. I'm only trying to help, Danny."

"Yeah, I know that," Danny said. He sighed in resignation as the car pulled into the student parking lot, and he grabbed the strap of his backpack, ready to sling it over his shoulder once they were parked. "Look, for now, if you wanna help, help by picking me up some melatonin next time it's your turn for a grocery run. That's really all the help I need."

"All right, deal," Jazz replied. She settled into her parking spot and pulled her keys out of the ignition. "See you after school, Danny. And that's _right_ after school, got it? Promise me you won't get detention on the first day of the school year."

"I'll try, but I can't promise anything," Danny said, grinning as he hastily got out of the car and began heading into the school before his sister had the chance to scold him.

His first stop in the school that morning was the front office, where he joined the throng of students who, like him, hadn't had the foresight to download his schedule from the school website, and so instead had to wait in line for a hard copy from the frazzled secretary. As he waited, Danny eyed the crowd of students, trying to determine which ones were in this year's crop of freshmen. It wasn't easy; admittedly, Danny had never bothered to get to know the other students in the school outside of his own classrooms, so he wasn't sure how many of the faces he didn't recognize were actually new.

He occupied himself trying to puzzle the crowd out until he finally reached the front desk and got his schedule. Nothing unexpected there, he noted as he glanced up and down at it. The classes were all the same as those the guidance counselor has laid out for him at the end of last year. American Literature, Geometry, World History, Spanish 2. It was still a bummer that he had been placed in Earth Science instead of Chemistry with Tucker and Sam, but he supposed he couldn't blame the school for not wanting him around the lab equipment yet. His elective slots were filled by Computer Science and Psychology, which he'd signed up for at Tucker's and Jazz's insistence, respectively. Something told Danny that by midterms, he would regret taking those instead of Home Ec. and Music Appreciation, which he knew would have been easy A's, but at least he had a couple of reliable tutors on hand. The remaining schedule blocks were set aside for Study Hall, which he was glad to see he had today, and Phys. Ed., which he was glad to see he didn't. Additionally, he had Ms. Stark for homeroom, which was just across the hall from his locker; hopefully that would make at least a little bit of a difference in his less than stellar tardiness record.

Once he'd made it out of the office, his first destination was his locker. Sam and Tucker were already there waiting for him, and comparing their schedules. Danny had barely reached them when Tucker snatched the schedule out of his hand and scanned it.

"We all have homeroom together," he stated with a nod. "And English, History, and P.E. Same lunch block, too. Would've all had Computer Science together too if _someone_ hadn't insisted on taking Botany instead," he added, scowling pointedly at Sam.

"After the whole deal with Undergrowth a while back, it just made sense," Sam replied. "No regrets here."

"Hey, four blocks together is nothing to sneeze at," Danny said. He opened up his locker and began emptying most of his backpack into it. "Really, though, I'm still just riding high on the fact that no ghosts attacked last night or this morning. Woulda sucked if I had to start the year with the teachers already pissed off at me for being late."

"I guess ghosts know the value of a good education," Tucker chuckled. He glanced up toward the intercom on the ceiling when a bell rang out. "Although, that's the five minute warning, so you can still be late if you show some dedication."

Danny rolled his eyes, then winced as he was knocked into his locker by someone's elbow. The hallway seemed to have become twice as crowded the instant the warning bell had rung and everyone began rushing to get to their homeroom classes. Pressing his notebook to his chest, he stepped out into the hallway, making it halfway across before another student tripped and they collided practically head on. The other student's bag fell from his shoulder, the contents from an unzipped pocket spilling out onto the floor.

"Sorry!" Danny said, hastily getting down onto the floor to help pick up the mess. The boy he'd run into didn't seem to have heard him, as he had already run off to retrieve the batteries that had fallen out of his calculator and attempted to roll away. Danny watched him go, trying to place him. There wasn't much he could tell from the back, besides that he was wearing a navy blue vest and a blue and white trucker hat. He appeared to be on the small side, too, both in height and weight. Danny bet he was a freshman.

While the other boy went off after the batteries, Danny went ahead and gathered the rest of what had fallen out – several mechanical pencils, two notebooks, and a folder that was now stamped with a damp footprint. Damn, the school day hadn't even begun yet and the kid's supplies were already getting ruined. Rotten luck, he supposed. He fetched the bag up off the ground and shoved the items inside.

Immediately, though, he yanked his hand back with a small yelp, dropping the bag in his surprise. Fortunately, nothing fell out this time, but Danny wasn't paying the slightest attention to that anymore. Instead, he cradled his hand against his stomach, staring at it suspiciously. There didn't seem to be any mark on it, and the pain was fading fast, but he knew there was no mistaking what he'd felt practically the instant he had stuck his hand into the bag. He had been burned. He was sure of it. For a split second he'd felt like his hand and wrist were engulfed by flame, and even after he'd dropped the bag, what felt like white-hot needle pricks lingered. But the bag looked perfectly fine, and the pain in his hand had cleared up now. So how the hell – ?

"You okay?" a voice asked, and Danny barely managed not to jump in surprise. He hadn't noticed the other student returning with his batteries. Now that he was close, Danny could glean a bit more detail of the boy. He'd been right in pegging him as short; the kid was a couple of inches below Danny in height. Thick brown curls poked out from under his cap, which he now saw was decorated with a logo of a solid blue pine tree. The brim was pulled low, covering nearly his entire forehead, but not low enough to hide the wide brown eyes that were currently fixed on Danny with a surprising intensity that set the latter's nerves on edge.

"Hey, um, did you hear me?" the boy asked. "I said, are you – "

"Yeah," Danny cut him off quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Carpal tunnel. The cramps just come out of nowhere."

"Oh," said the boy, nodding slowly, but the slight narrowing of his eyes suggested that he wasn't anywhere near convinced. But he seemed prepared to let the matter drop, since he picked his bag up, slung it over his shoulder, and began turning to leave. "Well, thanks for the help."

"Right, no problem," Danny said, but before he had even finished saying the words, the kid had vanished in the flood of students.

Another bell rang, one that Danny recognized as the one-minute warning, so he shook his head and strode into the classroom, joining Sam and Tucker in settling into three desks next to each other.

"What was that in the hallway, Danny?" Sam asked. "I thought I heard you yell or something."

"Nothing," Danny dismissed him with a shrug. Some freshman was just being weird, caught me by surprise."

Tucker shot him a grin. "Man, we're _finally_ not the freshmen anymore, and you've got to take advantage of it. If the kid bugs you again, pull down his pants and steal his lunch money. It's our turn to try it."

" _Tucker!"_ Sam snapped.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Tucked said hurriedly. Danny just laughed at the two of them, moving his hand so that it was on his lap and out of sight when the bell rang to officially begin the school day.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm as surprised as anyone at how fast I'm getting chapters written for this story. That's what a growing count of favorites, followers, and reviews will do to you. It's keeping my motivation through the roof. So, hey, keep it up! Remember: reviews fuel the beast.

* * *

The school day progressed normally, almost disappointingly so. Danny hadn't been so idealistic that he thought his sophomore year would be wildly different from the year before, but he had at least hoped that this year his teachers would try to get the class excited on the first day of school. No such luck. In one class after the other, Danny fought to keep his eyes open as the instructors went over the class rules and syllabus for what felt like hours.

Even a ghost attack at midday didn't seem to break up the monotony. Admittedly, it was nice to get a little ghost fighting in after a few days' break, especially a fairly simple one, which was the case when Technus decided to create a ruckus in the A/V room. Danny only wished that the ghost would have had the decency to show up during his class time instead of his lunch break, but he doubted Technus would be up for creating a schedule.

Still, although a ghost attacking the school was practically an everyday occurrence for Danny, he had nearly forgotten that only in Casper High was such an event anywhere near normal, so it initially took him by surprise when he saw the reaction among the students milling in the hallway after the bell rang that signalled the end of the lunch period. The hall was noisy and packed with energy as students enthusiastically tried to piece together what had happened and argued over who had been least scared of the ghostly threat.

Danny noted that most of the people getting worked up appeared to be freshmen. He supposed the middle school didn't get many ghost fights. To be fair, the rest of Casper High had been much worse the first few times a ghost invaded the school; at least most of the new class would have spotted a ghost or two around town or on the news.

Fortunately, Danny only had to deal with the clamor during passing period, since he had American Literature right after lunch, which was an all-sophomore class. He sat through it with all the attention he usually gave Lancer's lectures – that is to say, little to none – and was enormously grateful when the bell cut the class off and he could head to study hall, where he could finally get a reprieve from the opening-day routines and maybe even catch a bit of shut-eye.

He had study hall with Sam, and she had beaten him out of Literature and made it to the classroom first to save him a desk, which he sank into with a groan. "God, I miss summer," he sighed.

Sam snorted. "It's day one, Danny. Way too early for you to crash. Now, come on, sit up, I haven't gotten to talk with you all day, what with Technus interrupting lunch and all."

"I'll have a talk with him about his manners," Danny said. He propped his elbow onto the desk and rested his chin in his hand. "All right, let's talk. And let's start with Lancer. What kind of sadist decides to start off the year with a poetry unit?"

"Oh, come on, now. Just because _you_ don't get poetry doesn't mean it's a bad thing. I mean, we're starting off with Dickinson. Her approach toward the subject of death is actually really fascinating."

"I'm choosing to interpret that as you offering to write my report on it for me."

Sam kicked the leg of his chair. "In your dreams. Oh, hey, by the way, I didn't get the chance to tell you. We had some free time at the end of chemistry class, and Tucker used it to look up some more about that Stanford Pines person. We actually found something interesting."

"What is it?"

"Well, see – hang on." Sam set her phone on the desk, and proceeded to arrange a stack of textbooks, a binder, and a pencil case around it to block the phone from the view of the study hall supervisor. She gestured for Danny to lean in with her to see the screen. "Tucker found a full bibliography online. Complete list of all the journal publications he's an author on, listed chronologically. Tell me if you notice anything weird."

Danny pulled the phone toward him. The first article listed was the one that had been mentioned in the bio he read yesterday, about cryptoids in the arctic, published just over a month ago. The next one on the list was a treatise on the multiverse theory from the International Journal of Theoretical Physics, published in…

"1982," Danny muttered.

Sam nodded. "He made a publication every month or two for years, then suddenly took a thirty year hiatus. That struck me and Tucker as rather odd."

"No kidding. Any idea why?"

"Nope," Sam said, shaking her head. "Nothing but idle theories. Tucker had mentioned how the last paranormal researcher we know who took a sudden multi-decade break was a certain Wisconsinite with a case of ecto-acne."

"So, what, Tucker thinks this guy got into some kind of ghost portal accident too?"

"He pitched it. Of course, the odds of yet _another_ portal accident victim in your life seemed pretty slim to me. My money was on him publishing something really absurd that was shot down, and he had to spend thirty years rebuilding his reputation."

"Sounds like an Oscar winner waiting to be made," Danny remarked. "So what do you suppose the résumé gap means?"

"I don't know. Could mean nothing, of course. But, you know, in our experience, unexplained radio silence usually means _something_."

"Not debating you there. If I'm ever stuck talking to the guy, I could try to squeeze some information out of him. Do some investigating, ask some questions, see if he hesitates or contradicts himself."

"You do that, Phoenix Wright," Sam said, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smirk. She shut her phone off and slid it back into her backpack. "Anyway, that's all I've got for now. You should probably use this study hall time to start on that reading for Lancer." At Danny's petulant expression she added, "Unless you'd rather end up pulling an all-nighter to get your work finished?"

"Fine, fine, I'll do my homework, _Mom_ ," Danny grumbled. That earned him another kick, which he pretended not to have noticed.

He pulled out his enormous Literature textbook and opened it on the desk, flicking to the pages Lancer had assigned, and started to read the first of the poems on the page. Two stanzas in, he felt his eyes starting to glaze over. After making it to the end of the poem only to notice that he'd barely taken in a word of it, he sighed and laid his head down, his cheek pressed against the open book. He was so not in the mood for this.

His eyelids drooped and he thought that perhaps he was going to get that nap in after all, but the hope was dashed when he realized how noisy the study hall was. One teacher's voice he could ignore, no problem, but an entire double-sized classroom full of chattering was harder. So, rather than sleeping, he found himself listening to conversations around him. He overheard a couple of seniors complaining about scholarship applications, a boy relating some drunken exploits that Danny was 100% sure had happened only in this guy's imagination, and, of course, the word 'ghost' was echoing from various voices around the classroom. Apparently to some students, Technus's minor disruption earlier still counted as news.

Danny chose to concentrate on just one of these conversations, selecting on that was occurring just a few desks away. It sounded like an older student was explaining the school's tendency toward ghost attacks to an enraptured freshman.

"Trust me, once you've gone through a couple of ghost attack drills, the novelty will wear off," the older one was saying. It was a female voice, flat and a little adenoidal. "Now the only time when it's actually interesting is if it's a ghost we haven't seen before."

"So, wait, you get the same ghosts multiple times? How do they keep coming back?" That would be the freshman. Her voice was rather gravelly, with a singsong tone and a hint of a lisp.

"Beats me. But, I mean, they're ghosts, yeah? You can't kill what's already dead, so they must be tough to get rid of."

"Well, yeah, but there are ways. Has anyone ever tried an exorcism on the school?"

"Ew, what year do you think we're in, 1600? That's creepy."

"But has anyone tried it?"

"Maybe. I dunno. We've got a bunch of ghost hunters in town, so they've probably tried everything."

"They couldn't have tried _everything,_ or you wouldn't still have a ghost problem."

Danny had to fight the urge to whip around in his seat and start arguing with this freshman. _You try hunting down powerful ghosts from another dimension every night,_ he thought bitterly. _See how you like it. Maybe give the ghost hunters here a little more apprecation, huh?_

"Eh, it's not really a problem, exactly," the older student was continuing. "I think the spike in tourism makes up for the cost of the property damage. Besides, Danny Phantom takes care of most of them before there are any casualties or anything."

"That's the guy who was fighting the robot ghost earlier, right?"

"Yeah. Don't tell you haven't heard of Phantom. I know you're not from here, but that's, like, national news."

"I might have heard of him. I kind of tend to tune out news about paranormal stuff most of the time. If you lived with my brother, you'd understand. It's interesting, sure, but not after listening to someone talk about it for two hours."

"Well, this guy's, like, a super big deal. You're not a real Amity Park local until you've seen him in action and gotten pictures."

"You have pictures?"

"Of course. Here, there's a couple from today. Although, hang on, these are blurry. I'll pull up a better one."

"That's Phantom?"

"Yeah."

"Oooh, he's really cute!" the freshman squealed.

This time Danny couldn't help but turn around and take a look at the pair who were discussing him. The older student he recognized as Ashley, a student in his year who had sat in front of him in Algebra I last year. The freshman, of course, was a new face. The girl flicking eagerly through the pictures on Ashley's phone would be hard to miss in a crowd. Thick, wavy brown hair fell halfway down her back, held in place by a bright blue headband that matched the color of her sweater, on which was stitched a smiling panda bear. Oversized plastic ice cream cone earrings dangled almost to her shoulders, and Danny could swear he caught the sight of glitter on her pink cheeks.

The girl seemed to have noticed Danny's eyes on her, since she glanced up from the phone and met his gaze. While most people would have awkwardly looked away at this point, she instead shot him a beaming smile that revealed a mouth full of powder-blue braces. "Did you want to see the pictures?" she asked brightly, earning her a scowl from Ashley.

"Um, no thanks," Danny replied, quickly turning back around. He felt warmth in his cheeks from sheepishness, and hoped to high heaven that his face hadn't gone red. Once he was facing forward again, he noticed that Sam was looking at him, brow quirked. "What?" he asked.

"I'm just impressed. Your pool of fangirls keeps on growing, doesn't it?"

Danny moaned and rubbed at his temples. "Why is it that Danny Phantom can get an entire unwanted fan club, yet Danny Fenton can't get and keep a girlfriend if his life depended on it?"

"Because your flirting ability is piss-poor," Sam answered matter-of-factly. "I thought you knew that. It's not exactly a well-kept secret."

It was Danny's turn to kick her chair leg. "Aw, shut up," he grunted. "You're distracting me from my reading." He lifted his textbook and stared intently at the page, pointedly ignoring Sam's taunting smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

And slowly the two worlds begin to collide. Anyway, thank you so much for the support you've shown so far! I would love to know your thoughts on this widdle ol' story, so pressing that review button would make me all kinds of happy!

* * *

There had never been a better way to unwind after a long day of school than to flop onto a saggy sofa at Tucker's house and play three hours of video games. Danny, Sam, and Tucker did have to endure a lecture from Jazz as she gave them a ride over, alleviated only by Sam's assurance that she had made Danny work on his homework already during study hall and he could therefore afford some down time, and from practically the moment they were dropped off, the three of them had their eyes glued to the screen over Tucker's oversized television, battling each other out on the latest Halo installment until Sam finally cut it off by leaving for dinner.

Danny reluctantly followed suit soon afterward, bidding Tucker good-bye until tomorrow and strolling back to Fentonworks. When he reached his street, he noticed another vehicle in the driveway, an old, deep-red El Diablo convertible with a bumper that had clearly seen better days. He bit back a groan; he could only imagine that it belonged to that researcher his parents were meeting with today. He had been certain that the man would have left by now, but apparently the man hadn't been scared off yet.

Well, he was already home, and he really had no excuse left to avoid going into the house, so he entered, deciding that he would just microwave something real quick for dinner and eat in his room, hopefully quietly enough that he'd avoid getting anyone's attention and having to meet the researcher, but those plans were dashed when he entered the kitchen and found it occupied – although, not by his family or the researcher.

Instead, two kids sat on adjacent sides of the table, their backpacks and school supplies spread out across the surface. Both of them Danny recognized after a few seconds' thought. At the far end of the table was the girl from his study hall, the one in the panda sweater, who had a history textbook open and was copying a passage down into a notebook with a glittering pink gel pen topped with a bouncing pom-pom, while humming some unidentifiable tune to herself just loudly enough to be audible. Beside her sat a boy Danny recalled from the trucker hat that now hid half his face as he bent over a sheet of graphing paper marked with a half-finished line graph, chewing thoughtfully on the end of a mechanical pencil.

The girl was the first to notice Danny's presence, and she looked up, her face immediately breaking into a wide smile. "Hey, I know you!" she said, her tone light and blithe. "You're in my study hall, aren't you? So you're Danny?" The boy looked up then as well, eyeing Danny up and down before silently grabbing his backpack off of the table and sliding it onto the chair beside him instead.

"Uh, yeah, I'm Danny," Danny replied slowly. Somehow, he noticed, even a few seconds' conversation with this girl was exhausting, and trying to ignore the wary gaze from the boy didn't help. "How did you know – ?"

"Well, Jack and Maddie said they had a son named Danny a grade above us, so, I mean, who else could you have been?" the girl said. "I kinda pictured someone bigger, actually, but I think that's just 'cause Jack was so big. I mean, he's like, _huge_ , huh? Reminds me a little of our friend Wendy's dad. He breaks stuff in the house a lot, Wendy told me, like doorways and stuff. Although the doorways here all seem to be in good shape. Is your dad more careful, or are your doorways bigger? Hey, Dipper, how big are doorways, on average?" She addressed that last question to the boy at the table.

The boy – Dipper, apparently – seemed entirely unfazed by the girl's rapid jabbering. "Around eighty inches for interior doors," he answered. "But I think older buildings tend to have them little shorter, and newer buildings a little taller."

"That must be it," the girl said, clapping her hands together. "Wendy's house is pretty old. And this place is, like, a mad science building."

Danny narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "My parents aren't mad scientists, if that's what you're implying. And who are you, anyway?"

"Oh, I didn't mean anything bad by it!" the girl said hurriedly. "I meant it as a good thing. I like it. The building's so fun, and I love that glowy sign outside. More people should have those on their houses."

"You didn't answer my – "

"Great Uncle Ford is down in the lab," Dipper interrupted him. "Your parents said you knew he was coming. We're here because we wanted to come in and see it, that's all."

"I'm Mabel, and this is Dipper," Mabel added. She leaned across the table and wrapped an arm around Dipper's shoulder, squeezing him against her so that their faces pressed together. "We're twins, can you tell?" Danny could, actually, now that they were right beside each other. The two of them had the same round faces, their thick hair was the same brown, and their eyes were identical, even if it was disguised by the light mascara and pink eye shadow decorating Mabel's eyes and the noticeable bags and dark rings under Dipper's.

"Mabel, you're smudging my homework," Dipper grunted. Mabel settled back into her own seat with an apologetic smile.

Danny cleared his throat. "So, um, that researcher person, Pines, that's your uncle?"

"Yep," Mabel said. "Oh, and Jack said he wanted him to meet you when you came home." She swiveled in her chair so she was facing toward the stairs to the lab and shouted, with sudden and startling volume that made Danny clap his hands over his ears, _"Hey, Grunkle Ford! Danny's home! You wanna meet him?!_ "

Danny heard the heavy thumping of someone bounding up the stairs, then his dad poked his head into the kitchen. "Danny-boy, about time!" Jack said with a grin. "Come on, I want Stanford to meet the whole family." He took Danny enthusiastically by the arm and pulled him to the stairs. "You're going to love him, Danny! He's a genius, a real genius, and man, does this guy have some impressive stories!"

He burst into the lab with all the force that usually accompanied Jack Fenton entering a room, Danny practically tripping over the last couple of steps to keep up. Beside the ghost portal, deep in an animated conversation with an attentive Maddie, stood the man whose face Danny recognized from the photograph he'd seen on Tucker's PDA. Stanford Pines definitely looked eccentric enough to be a ghost hunter, in his frayed coat that reached nearly to the floor, his mud-caked boots, and what looked to be a small harpoon gun strapped over his shoulder.

Jack announced their presence with a whistle through his teeth, urging Danny forward as Stanford turned to them. "Here he is, our son I was telling you about. He's a good kid, he is, but maybe you can help out a bit – we've yet to make a ghost enthusiast out of him."

"Now, Jack, Stanford's here to help with research, not with our kids' extracurriculars," Maddie said, shaking her head with a smile. "Danny, meet Stanford Pines. Stanford, this is Danny."

"Call me Ford," the man said, stretching out a gloved hand for Danny to shake. Danny did so, caught by surprise when the handshake felt off somehow, as if their hands didn't fit correctly into each other. It wasn't until Ford let go that Danny could see his hand in full, and he couldn't stop himself from staring at the extra finger.

"I see you've noticed my new gloves," Ford jested.

Danny quickly tore his eyes away from the hand. "Sorry, didn't mean to stare."

"No, no, think nothing of it," Ford said with a dismissive wave of the six-fingered hand. "I know it's unusual, and it's hard not to notice. Postaxial polydactyl, it's called. Six fingers on each hand, six toes on each foot. Really doesn't affect my life besides needing to have gloves custom made. Though I do somewhat regret never thinking to take up the piano."

"So, um, what are you working on with my parents?" Danny asked, deciding it would be best to change the subject.

"Ooh, it's fascinating, Danny, it really is!" Maddie answered before Ford could even open his mouth. "Ford here has worked with lots of different ghosts in the past, and he says the ones here in Amity Park are absolutely unique. And he thinks it might have something to do with the portal your dad and I built! Isn't that something!"

"You think mom and dad… what, created a new type of ghost?" Danny asked.

"No, no, not at all," Ford said. "But I do think they may have _discovered_ a new type of ghost." He took a seat at a stool next to one of the metal lab tables and folded his hands in front of him. "If you consider them ghosts, that is. You see, the ghosts that have heretofore been studied in and around Amity Park appear to have the same origins and similar abilities as ghosts I've encountered elsewhere, but in structure and the strength of their manifestations, the differences are vast. It brings to light the issue of how post-conscious entities are classified, and whether the current listings of specter classes need to be adjusted or revamped entirely. Of course, though, that's all more a matter of phylogenesis."

"… Phylo-what?"

"The point is," Jack picked up, "Ford says that maybe it's because of the fact that we've created a nearby opening to the Ghost Zone that ghosts who form within a certain distance have a different structure than ghosts in other places."

Ford nodded. "Are you familiar, Danny, with the concept of demons?"

Danny's eyes widened. If this guy was implying what Danny thought he was implying… well, it had been hard enough to adjust to the thought of being half-ghost; Danny didn't think he could stand considering himself half-demon. "If you're saying that you think these ghosts come from Hell or something, I'm gonna have to argue with you."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," Ford said. "I don't mean demons in the traditional sense. See, throughout the multiverse, the term 'demon' is used as a shorthand to refer to entities who come from other dimsensions. And some of these dimensions are only reachable in certain manifestations, or are reached differently through different forms. For example, I've previously done some rather… intense research on dimensional beings who can only access our own dimension through the mindscape, through thoughts and dreams, rather than through a physical form. I theorize that when a person on earth dies and thus is no longer tied to a physical form, it could become capable of accessing a plane in this Ghost Zone in the form of a soul, a plane that cannot be fully accessed by a living human. And if it accesses this plane before settling into a more earth-centric manifestation, it will instead manifest in a way that is most effective for the Zone, which appears to be through a far more solid form of ectoplasm that is not indigenous to our dimension. Do you understand?"

"Uh, sort of?" Danny hedged, not wanting to admit that he had barely comprehended a word of the man's spiel.

"Well, it will make more sense once I've done some more observation and had time to collect my thoughts and findings into a research paper."

"And of course, he's going to need to get a better look at the ghosts around Amity Park," Maddie said. "See what makes them different, what makes them tick. So, that's where Jack and I come in. We're going to be stepping up our ghost hunting game."

Danny gulped. "Is that necessary? I mean, Mom and Dad have already done a lot of research on the ghosts around here. Can't you just go through their findings?"

"For something of this magnitude, I'd much prefer to get some firsthand research done," Ford replied. "Don't worry, Danny, I'm sure your parents are more than up to the task of capturing a few specimens for my studies."

"You've got that right," Jack said with an eager grin. "Trust me, with the Fentons on your team, you'll get your research finished up in no time flat."

"Right," Danny muttered. Great. Just great. Now not only did he have to deal with a new ghost researcher, but his parents were doubling up on their enthusiasm for ghost hunting. Any hope he had ever had for getting a moment's break from stress was vanishing before his very eyes.

"If you don't mind," Ford said, "Your mother was just walking me through the construction of your portal here."

"Why don't you head back upstairs, Danny?" Maddie suggested. "You could get to know Ford's niece and nephew a bit."

"I would appreciate that," Ford said, giving Danny a small smile. "We're all new in town, it could do them good to have a friend or two to spend time with. Don't let them know I told you, but they have a bit of trouble establishing new friends. Dipper especially is a bit on the shy side."

"Yeah, I kinda figured," Danny replied. "He seems a bit, um, defensive?"

Ford chuckled lightly. "Oh, I'm sure he won't keep that up too long. Just let Mabel do the talking at first, that's all."

"Go on, Danny," Maddie said, giving him an encouraging nod. "We'll come up when we're done in here."

"All right," Danny said, backing up toward the stairs. "Uh, nice to meet you, Ford."

"You as well, Danny," Ford answered, waving good-bye with six fingers as Danny disappeared up the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

Apologies for the long wait, especially since this is the shortest chapter so far. Been having some computer problems. Anyway, this chapter isn't an exciting one, since I'm saving the big stuff for next chapter - um, I mean, I have no particular plans for next chapter, none, your information is incorrect. *sweats nervously*

* * *

"So, uh…" Danny began uncertainly, "What do you two, uh, like to do for fun?"

He was back in the kitchen, where he had been greeted by a friendly wave from Mabel and that omnipresent wary stare from Dipper that refused to waver as Danny got his supper – well, just a tube of yogurt, since meeting the new scientist had managed to stifle Danny's appetite. Now, he figured his choice was either to attempt to getting to know them, or go out of his way to ignore them until they left with their uncle. The latter option sounded more appealing, but the former made him seem less of a jerk, so he dove in.

"Well, plenty of stuff," Mabel answered. "I like knitting and scrapbooking and drawing and playing mini-golf." She ticked the activities off on her fingers. "And playing with animals and water balloon fights and sleepovers and karaoke and listening to music and watching movies and making cupcakes and swimming and dancing and sculpting and putting on plays and eating candy and – "

"And Dipper?" Danny asked, figuring that if he didn't cut Mabel off, she'd never stop.

Dipper shrugged and finally took a break from his staring to avert his eyes to the homework on the table, which looked to be completed. "Oh, you know," he said. "I, um, I read."

"Is that all?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, that's not all," Mabel laughed. "Let's see, you like puzzles and video games and exploring in the woods, and that ones Dungeons game, and your monster movies, and of course you're always up for the musical stylings of – "

"Yes, thank you Mabel," Dipper interrupted hastily.

Mabel rolled her eyes and shot Danny a grin before addressing Dipper again. "Hey, you weren't answering, someone had to. What's with you today, anyhow? You're all quiet."

"I am not."

"Yes you are. Why are you – "

" _Mabel,_ " Dipper snapped. "There's nothing 'with me'."

For an instant the twins were silent, but Danny saw a look pass between them, as if the two of them were having a quick telepathic conversation. It was a look he recognized as one that he and Jazz shared all the time, and along with the split second in which Dipper's eyes glanced his way, the meaning wasn't hard to decipher. _I'll tell you about it later, when_ he's _not around_.

Danny fought to keep his own face neutral as he cleared his throat and said, "Well, you said video games, right? I've got a PS3 in my room, if, you know, you wanna do something. Got all the staples, Assassin's Creed, Call of Duty, Fallout, ones like that."

Mabel nodded eagerly, and, after a moment's hesitation, Dipper slowly nodded as well, closing his textbook and sliding off the chair, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder to take with him. Danny led the way up the stairs, half-listening to Mabel chatter all the way about her favorite Wii games, and ushered the twins inside. He had gotten a small TV that was situated on a stand in the corner of the room, an investment he had made after realizing that with the living room so close to the lab, it was hard to tell which crashes and explosions were from the games and indicated an approaching enemy, and which ones were just his parents a floor below.

Danny moved to pick out a game while Mabel flopped onto his bed, looking around the room. "I like your posters," she said, gesturing toward the walls. "You've gotta love space, especially stars. In my old room back in California, I had a bunch of those glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. Dipper tried them at one point, but apparently he can't sleep well with a bunch of green glowy stuff in the room. Although, Dipping Sauce, you get, what, like two hours of sleep a night? So I don't think the stars are what did it."

"She's exaggerating," Dipper told Danny. "A person couldn't survive on that little sleep."

"Well, then, maybe it's time for you to stop reading until five in the morning. That's right, I see you leave your light on."

"Look, it's not my fault if a book doesn't have a good stopping point! Besides, I don't do that much."

"You did it last night."

"What? No I didn't."

"Yeah-huh. I went to the bathroom at like three in the morning and you had your light on. So what were you doing if you weren't reading?"

"Okay, okay, fine, you caught me," Dipper sighed. He flopped down onto the bed next to his sister. "I'll do better."

Mabel patted Dipper on the head as if he were a puppy, and smiled up at Danny as Dipper batted her hand away. "He's lucky he's got me for a sister," she said. "It's good for his quality of life. Imagine him walking around without anyone reminding him to sleep and shower."

With a roll of his eyes, Dipper picked up Danny's pillow and whacked Mabel with it, and Danny couldn't hold back a little laugh. "Hey, count yourself fortunate, at least she doesn't try to pschoanalyze around the clock like my sister does."

"Who says she hasn't tried?" Dipper asked.

Mabel nodded solemnly. "Today, Doctor Mabel diagnosed him with a serious case of The Mondays. Could be terminal."

Danny grinned as he turned back to finish loading up the game. Mabel might be exhausting, but he could still admit that she at least seemed to have a sense of humor. It didn't seem that the same could be said for her brother, but it was still something. "All right, I've only got two controllers, so…"

"I'll sit out," Mabel offered. "I like watching anyway."

"Sounds good," Danny said, tossing Dipper the extra controller and settling down next to Mabel. He had selected one of his Call of Duty games, which he had been improving at lately, even if Tucker did still steamroller him when they played on opposing sides. It only took a few minutes to grasp Dipper's style of gameplay, namely, that he seemed to be taking pains to stay out of the line of fire and use as little ammunition as possible, a strategy that Danny really didn't think was in the spirit of the game. Mabel's 'watching', it turned out, was actually much more backseat driving, and the sound effects of the game were drowned out by her giving Dipper constant unsolicited advice and pointing out anything she wanted him to shoot. Dipper seemed to roll with it just fine, and Danny couldn't help but suspect that Mabel was just doing this to distract Danny into performing poorly. If so, it was working.

Despite Dipper's no-risk fighting style, he actually wasn't so bad to play with. He wasn't amazing, but he aimed well and didn't do anything too stupidly destructive. Not to mention that it was a nice change to have Dipper stare at the TV screen instead of Danny. If they just played video games, Danny thought, then maybe having to spend time with these two wouldn't be so bad.

Halfway through one round, however, Danny's concentration on the game was interrupted by a shiver and a puff of mist slipping past his lips. Dipper and Mabel turned to look at him, and he hoped that they only saw the shiver, as the foggy breath would be much harder to explain.

"You cold?" Mabel asked.

"Uh, no, I just got a, um, a stomach cramp," Danny said. "The yogurt I ate must have been expired. I, ah, I have to go to the bathroom. Take over for me, will you, Mabel?"

Mabel happily grabbed the controller and returned her attention to the game, but Dipper narrowed his eyes and watched Danny as he darted out of the bedroom and slammed the bathroom door shut.

"Stupid ghost," Danny muttered as he transformed into Phantom. Him running off like that surely couldn't be good for alleviating Dipper's apparent reservation around him, not to mention that he now had to transform with Ford in the house. He prayed that the scientist would stay down in the lab with his parents while he was in ghost form.

He floated up through the roof and above the house, scanning the area to see which ghost had set off his ghost sense. All seemed quiet.

"Come on, ghosty," Danny said under his breath. He went invisible and started flying along the nearby streets, keeping his eyes peeled. "Come on out. Let's get this over with."

Still there appeared to be no sign. Given the tendency of ghosts to enjoy making a scene when they paid a visit to Amity Park, a ghost being sneaky and subtle couldn't be good news. Danny let the inkling of his ghost sense guide him to the edge of the neighborhood, hoping to stop this ghost's mischief before it started.

At a corner that turned off the street into the next neighborhood over, he finally caught a glimpse. A dark, curling tendril that looked like the end of a ghost's tail slinked around the corner and out of sight, and Danny raced as fast as he good to follow it. When he reached the corner, though, the other ghost had already vanished from sight.

"Are you kidding me?" Danny whispered to himself, darting his head around fruitlessly in search of another peek at that tail, but even his ghost sense seemed to have lost the trail.

Part of Danny wanted to wait it out, see if perhaps the ghost would eventually make another appearance, but a more rational part knew that this ghost seemed to want to stay hidden. Besides, he'd already been 'in the bathroom' long enough that another minute more would definitely raise some suspicion.

With a sigh, Danny turned around and began the flight back home. Whichever ghost this was, he was going to have to wait for it to come back again later, if it ever did.


	6. Chapter 6

12,000 words in, and we're finally getting around to a bit of the actual plot! Hopefully it's worth the wait, because you guys are strapped in for a long ride. Thank you so much to everyone supporting this story! Remember, favorites, follows, and especially reviews make my world go 'round.

* * *

Nights in Amity Park were usually considered among ghosts a prime time to pick a fight with the infamous Danny Phantom. Tonight, though, was quiet. It was far out of the norm for a ghost to venture into the city without creating some sort of ruckus, so even a person without a ghost sense would have little trouble noticing when a phantasmic menace was out and about.

If Nocturne didn't have a purpose that night, a purpose which was the only thing on his mind and had been so for the past three nights, he probably would have leapt to participate in this nighttime tradition. Or he would at least have taking the time to swing by Fentonworks, perhaps take a peek at the boy's dreams and throw in a few alterations of his own.

But not tonight. Tonight, instead, took him to a neighborhood at the far west side of town, to a rental home on a street of houses that would have been nigh identical had this one not already displayed signs of having been inhabited: the old convertible and the station wagon parked in the driveway, the threadbare sofa on the front porch that spilled out handfuls of stuffing and had a spring poking out through one of the cushions, the glittering decals pasted onto a bedroom window, the custom weather vane on the roof.

Nocturne glided silently into the house, following his instinct that pulled him toward one of the upstairs bedrooms, and found his target asleep in his bed, tangled in his faded comfortable and mumbling softly in his sleep.

The ghost made his entry in a dive, finding himself landing in the child's dreamscape. He peered around once he'd entered, acclimating himself to the surroundings. This subconscious had manifested in what looked to be the main street of a small town, except for the fact that it appeared to be the _only_ street; beyond this road stretched a blue-tinged forest of pines, infinite and acting as the mindscape's boundaries. The buildings along the street seemed to readily serve the functions of the subconscious. What looked to be the display of an electronics store projected memories from dozens of TV monitors. A library, probably the boy's storage of knowledge and information, sat across from it. A small building declaring itself a bank stood with its doors barred, an attempt to seal its contents, the boy's secrets and doubts, away from intruding eyes. Several more buildings were dotted up and down the street, leading to a courthouse on one end, no doubt the center for morality, judgment, and, more likely than not, self-loathing.

The building on the other far end of the street, however, was what interested Nocturne the most. A rather dilapidated house stood proudly, an archway stretched over the entrance across two totem poles. A multitude of signs led to the front door of the house pointed toward it, declaring it wondrous and must-see and worth the cost of admission. And in a sign across the roof, enormous wooden letters spelled out "Mystery Shack" – or, they would have, if an "S" wasn't missing and leaving its outline against the sign's faded background.

It was this building that had the ghost's attention. This was the source of the sensation he had tracked all over town, and he was finally going to get to the bottom of it.

He began gliding down the street toward the house, ready to explore this "Mystery Shack", but just as he passed under the archway, he found his path blocked, as another entity dropped in front of him seemingly out of thin air.

"Well, well, _well!_ " the being said. "It's sure been a long time since I've had a visitor!"

Nocturne stared at the creature before him. He had been certain during his pursuit that he was looking for a ghost, but this thing wasn't like any ghost he'd ever seen. For one thing, the being looked practically two-dimensional, a flat isosceles triangle floating off the ground of its own accord. The creature met Nocturne's gaze, it with only a single eye that seemed to take up a third of its body. Stick-thin arms and legs dangled from its edges, a curved-handle cane resting in one of his hands. The entire look was completed with a black bow tie on its chest and a narrow top hat that floated inches above what must be the top of its head.

"What, you're not gonna talk?" the creature asked. Its voice was grating and adenoidal, with a sharp echoing quality that almost made him seem louder than he was. Nocturne had no idea where the voice was coming from, since the thing didn't seem to have a mouth. "My first guest in like a year, and he doesn't even wanna chat? Hot damn, do I have the worst luck!"

Nocturne narrowed his eyes at the being. "I'm not here to chat," he said. "Your presence has been causing a disruption, and I am here to put an end to it. Who are you?"

"Name's Bill," the triangle said jovially. "Bill Cipher. You must have heard of me before, right? Dream demon, all-seeing eye, basically the most powerful being in the universe?" He watched Nocturne for a reaction, and when he didn't get one, he sighed and rolled his eye. "I need a new agent, I guess. For now, burn in me into your memories, all right? It should be easy, I'm a lot less complex-looking than all those curlicues you've got going on there. Want a picture? It could help."

Bill clapped his hands together, and with a puff of smoke, a large, glossy photograph appeared in his hand, which he tossed to Nocturne, who caught it and stared at it in disbelief. It looked like some sort of glamor shot, with Bill lounging in front of a fireplace with a glass of champagne in his hand. The photo was even signed, in a deep crimson ink: "To my adoring fan! Pmvvo yvuliv nv! Buy gold! XOXO – Bill"

"What is – I don't want this!" Nocturne snapped, tossing the photograph aside. "Look, I am here because you have been interfering in my domain. The ghosts who grace the city of Amity Park have sensed the presence of a new demon, and as a dream demon, you have encroached upon my work. The half-ghosts dreams are already being affected by your arrival, and it's only a matter of time before the full humans pick up on it as well. My whole energy supply will be tainted, and I will not stand for it. Have you any idea who you are dealing with, Cipher?"

He finished in his most imposing tone, but Bill looked thoroughly unimpressed. The triangle's pupil widened and transformed into a yawning mouth before the creature fixed Nocturne with a bored stare. "Of course, I know who I'm dealing with, Nocturne. And you're not exactly a huge threat to me."

"I'm a big enough threat for you to know my name."

Bill laughed, a shrill, wicked chuckle that irritated Nocturne to the core. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Curly, I know everyone's name. Everyone's name, their past, I'd know your blood type and social security number if you had them. I know _lots_ of things. I'm sort of a big deal that way."

"Is that so?" Nocturne growled. "Well, do you know what you're doing here in Amity Park, tampering with my energy source?"

"I sure do," Bill said, the corners of his eye turning up in a facsimile of a grin. "Bit of a long story, you may want to settle in. Can I offer you something to drink in the meantime? Tea? Coffee? Beer?" A pitcher appeared in his hand, and he tilted it so that the beverage poured out in a steady stream, transforming itself each time Bill named a drink. "Milk? Lemonade? Hot chocolate? Blood?"

"Nothing."

"Suit yourself." Bill snapped his fingers, and the pitcher vanished. Another snap, and plushy red chaise lounge appeared floating in the air beside him. Bill draped himself across it on his back, an arm flung dramatically across his forehead. "Now, this is the story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside – "

" _Get to the point,"_ Nocturne snarled.

Bill sat up on the chaise. "All right, Curly, you want the low-down, here's the low-down. You already figured out that I'm a demon, right? Not hard for us to detect each other, I know. Well, you should know that I came to this dimension to make it _better_. I spent eons figuring out a way to bring some of the joys of my home here, teach this dimension how to party. And about a year ago, I accomplished it. I was top of the world, and it was a grand world, a world of fun and entropy as far as the eye can see. But just as I'm trying to figure out how to take the fiesta global, some goddamn wet blankets get all pissy about it, decide they want their old milquetoast nine-to-five lives back. So what do they do? They _kill_ me! Some clown in a fez straight-up erases me from existence! The nerve, huh?"

"Erased you from existence?" Nocturne repeated skeptically. "Then how are – "

"How am I still here?" Bill finished. "Good question, big guy, you get an A for the day. I know, I couldn't believe it either, but it seems the the old schmucks didn't quite finish the job. This kid we're in, the guy who made this?" He gestured at large to the dreamscape around them. "Name's Pine Tree. Cute kid, real mule-headed, though. Thin-skinned, too, you barely have to press to get a fork into his arm. And his stamina leaves a lot to be desired, I gotta say.

"Anyhow, about a month before my big party, I get the opportunity to take Pine Tree out for a joyride. And, well, when I play with a toy for hours on end like that, I guess I tend to leave a bit of residue, see. Sixer knew about it, trying to do a little malware scan on the kid's head. I'm lucky Pine Tree's got the attention span of a gnat and didn't let the scan finish, or there wouldn't have been any of me left at all. As it was, though, when the old guys tried to zap me out of existence, I thought I was a goner, but next thing I know, I wake up.

"And it was a hell of a rude awakening, let me tell you. Do you know how powerful you are when all that's left of you is a teeny-tiny little sliver? Not very. I could barely even move the first few weeks I was here. It's been a year of bed rest and willpower, and I'm still just a ghost of my former self." At the look Nocturne gave him, he hastily added, "No offense."

"You're still not completely bereft of power though," Nocturne said. "You're strong enough for me to track you."

"Yeah, but I know how it works between demons from different dimensions. We show up in the same city and you're like a dog tracking a truck full of T-bones. It used to be you would probably detect a disturbance in the force even if I popped up a hundred miles south. Now? Well, a year, isn't that long to get back into tip-top shape. If I had been in this mindscape before, the whole place would be home-away-from-home for me, I woulda redecorated like a pro. But now, you wanna see how much damage I can do?"

He swooped down to the ground to pick up a pine cone, and it burst into flame as he held it up for Nocturne to see. A raging fireball sat in his hand for nearly a minute, before Bill blew the flame out and handed the pine cone to Nocturne to examine it. The ghost held it up, turning it over in his hands. The edges of some of the scales looked to have been blackened, but otherwise, the pine cone seemed pristine.

"Pathetic, huh?" Bill said. "A toddler with neglectful parents can set a pine cone on fire, but me, I can't even accomplish that, not even in a dreamscape. It's a real tear-jerker, Curly. I'm all powerless. Helpless. _Impotent_."

"Yes, well, you have my pity," Nocturne muttered. "But really, I'm more concerned about your presence's effects on local dreams. I came here only to ask you to lay low, not to listen to your sob story."

"Ah, you want me to lay low, huh?" Bill asked. He thoughtfully rubbed a spot above his bow tie that would be a chin on a normal face, then, the lid of his top hat popped up, and a glowing light bulb emerged from it and floated overhead. "Okay, okay, I'll hide out, I'll see if I can keep my aura or whatever under control. Put perhaps in exchange, you wouldn't mind doing me a little favor, wouldja?"

"What sort of favor?" Nocturne asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, a teensy one, I assure you," Bill said. "Now, I know quite a bit about you, Curly, and one of the things I know is that you're a pretty powerful guy, huh? You've got that endless supply of dreams to power you, not to mention that whole Sleepwalker army at your beck-and-call." Cautiously, slowly, Nocturne nodded in confirmation. "Those Sleepwalkers, those don't just come out of nowhere, do they? You power them. You basically feed them. Bottom line, you've got a means of sharing your power if you so choose."

"Where, precisely, are you going with this?"

Bill laughed. "Damn, I thought it would have been fairly obvious. You and me, Curly, we both operate on the same fuel, we both thrive off dream energy. And here I am, helpless and vulnerable and alone, without enough power in me to even collect the stuff. So, here's what I'm thinking. What would you say to making a little… business arrangement? I don't need much, just a cut of the supply, enough to get me back on me feet again."

Nocturne set his mouth in a thin line, thinking it over. "And what would I get in exchange?"

"What _wouldn't_ you get? Pal, do you have any idea what I'm capable of? When I'm at full capacity, the world is at my fingertips. I can make it whatever I want, make anyone do whatever I tell them, turn the universe into my playground. And _you_ , my friend, would be my right-hand man. I know you, Curly, I know how much you'd love that omniscience you've got over dreams to carry out into something real, I know you crave power like a drug. And I'll make sure you're right at my side. You will get all the power you could ever need, all as thanks for giving me a kick start."

The offer _did_ sound tempting. Nocturne stared at Bill, trying to read his expression to detect exaggeration or lies, but that was a difficult feat with only a single eye to go off of. "And how do I know you'll live up to that promise?" he asked coolly, trying to keep his genuine interest out of his voice.

"I guess you've just got my word," Bill answered. "But you can ask anyone I've done business with over the years, and they'll tell you, my word is as good as gold."

Nocturne didn't reply, still turning the offer over in his head. "Come on, Curly, what do you have to lose? I just want to share a little bit of your power, it won't set you back none. And in exchange, all the power you could ever need. Sounds like quite a bargain to me."

The demon approached the ghost, holding out his hand. A thin blue glow outlined his edges, and a blue flame appeared in his palm, quickly spread to engulf his hand and wrist. "So whattaya say, Nocturne?" he asked, his voice lower, graver, bolder than it had been before. "Do we have a deal?"

Nocturne look back and forth from Bill's hand to his inviting eye, and then, slowly, deliberately, extended his own ghostly black hand to shake. The blue flame moved to encircle both hands, and Nocturne noticed that it didn't burn, but instead floated against his hand like hot steam. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

"Deal."


	7. Chapter 7

Do my eyes deceive me, or did this fic seriously reach _100 followers?_ Holy moly, guys, that is amazing. I can't tell you how excited I am to have this kind of support for this story. Thank you all!

* * *

It had been one of the more peaceful nights Danny had had in a while. Although that irritating presence he was so certain he could feel when he lay down to sleep still hung over him when he first went to bed, it had actually had the courtesy this time to vanish after a few minutes, and for the rest of the night, Danny was finally able to sleep unencumbered by those curious dreams.

Which was a good thing, too, since Danny certainly needed that good night's rest to get through breakfast the next morning. After having spent the day with Stanford Pines, Jack and Maddie were more than eager to share all their new knowledge of paranormal creatures and repeat the stories Ford had told them about past experiments and investigations.

"He's really a brilliant man," Maddie gushed between bites of her morning toast. "He's got such an, oh, _holistic_ approach to ghost studies, I guess you could say. He's not a specialist like us, but what he does is, he takes what he's learned working with all sorts of paranormal entities, and he sees how he can apply it to others."

"Hmm," was Danny's only reply, trying his best to look at least a little interested, although really, he wasn't sure whether his parents were even looking for any reaction.

"What was that thing he had suggested for the Fenton Thermoses?" Jack asked. "The freezing thing?"

"Cryogenesis!" Maddie said. "Oh, it's such a neat idea! He told us about this method he used for the containment of a creature he studied," she explained to Danny. "A shape-shifter. Isn't that something? Anyway, he was telling us about how with cryogenesis, you can basically suspend a creature's sentience. They will be entirely frozen, not even aware of the passage of time. He says it's more humane than extended sensory deprivation – which, of course, doesn't really make much difference, considering that ghosts don't have such a concept, but it would certainly make escape more difficult."

"That's great," Danny muttered, and he was fortunately saved having to think about what that would feel like by Jack starting to describe an exorcism ritual Ford had told him about.

By the time breakfast was over, Danny had listened to about a dozen descriptions of new ways the Fentons could fight, capture, and study ghosts, and it was enough to make him feel somewhat ill by the time the dishes were cleared. Jazz seemed to have noticed that the talk was getting to him, because on the drive to school, she kept up a non-stop chatter about her new classes, barely pausing for breath and giving Danny no time to dwell on any thoughts of his parents' new ghost-hunting ideas. He kept up a pretense of being annoyed by her chattiness, but honestly, he was grateful for the distraction.

The distraction didn't last long, though, since when they arrived at school, scant minutes before the first bell rang, Tucker and Sam were waiting for Danny in homeroom, eager to hear about his experience with the scientist.

"So?" Tucker said as Danny took his seat in the desk beside his.

"So?" Danny repeated. "So what?"

"So, how was that scientist dude? He as kooky as your parents? Kookier? Or did he give off any supervillain vibes?"

Danny shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I guess he was a little, uh, 'kooky'. I suppose you have to be to study ghosts. Other than that, he seemed… okay."

"That's all we get?" Sam asked. "Come on, give us a _few_ details at least. Like, what is he working on with your parents?"

"Pretty much everything, as far as I can tell," Danny said. "Apparently he's been sharing heaps of his own research with them, and giving them ideas for their inventions. Only thing I don't think he's getting in on is the actual hunting. He just doesn't really seem like the type to actively go out and fight ghosts."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Right, because you can always tell. Danny Fenton, for example, always struck everyone as a ghost hunter extraordinaire."

"Fair point. But, no, he was just, I dunno, so scholarly and stuff, you know? He made me think of a librarian. And he's old, I'd say in his sixties or so. He'd probably break a hip if he tried chasing me down."

"Well, I guess that's good news," Tucker said. "You've already got enough guns on your tail when you're out on patrol."

"More than enough," Danny sighed. "Oh, and one other big thing: he brought kids."

Sam and Tucker both leaned forward in interest. "No kidding!" Tucker remarked. "See, guess your parents aren't that weird after all. They're not the only ones trying to get their kids involved in all this ghost stuff."

"Not his kids, actually," Danny said. "They're his niece and nephew. Or, great-niece and great-nephew. But apparently they're living with him."

"How old are they?" Sam asked. "Our age?"

"A little younger. They're freshmen this year – both of them, they're twins. Actually, you've met one, Sam. The girl, Mabel, she was in our study hall. She was the one behind us, in the panda sweater."

"Huh. Would never have pegged that girl for a ghost enthusiast."

"And the other one?" Tucker asked.

"Dipper. He's actually the one I ran into in the hall yesterday. I'll point him out to you if I see him."

"Do you think they – ?" Sam began, but she was interrupted by the school bell ringing, and since their homeroom teacher was the type who called class to order the instant the bell was rung, she didn't give a chance to finish. Instead, after a silent acknowledgment between the trio that they'd pick up their discussion later, they turned forward in their desks to listen to Ms. Stark read the morning announcements.

Danny had gym right after homeroom, a class he had been dreading, but at least had it at the same time as Tucker, who despised it even more, so the latter was the one willing to do all the complaining during passing period and as they made it into the locker room.

"They still haven't taken up my suggestion to separate the gym classes into fitness groups," Tucker told Danny as they started changing into their uniforms. "Which means, huge surprise, we're stuck with Dash again. I don't know how many more dodgeballs to the face I can take."

"If it helps, we only do dodgeball, like, once a semester," Danny pointed out.

"Like that makes any difference. Dash is just as happy breaking my nose with a basketball or soccer ball. And I don't think I can survive another swimming unit with him. Literally; I think he'll try to drown me. Didn't Sam get out of doing the swimming stuff last year? How did she do that?"

"She told Tetslaff it was her time of the month."

"Oh. Yeah, guess that won't work for me."

"Well, you've got time to come up with something. We'll probably start the year with just track anf field stuff or – " He looked up when he finished getting dressed, and elbowed Tucker sharply in the ribs.

"Ow!" Tucker yelped. "What was that for?"

Danny pointed across the locker room. "I told you I'd point out Dipper if I saw him. Looks like he's in our gym class."

Tucker turned to look in the direction Danny was pointing. Sure enough, there was Dipper Pines, shuffling out of one of the shower stalls in his gym uniform; apparently he was one of those kids who was too shy to change in the locker room proper like everyone else. He looked oddly younger without his hat and vest on, their absence making his doe eyes and the lack of bulk in his shoulders more noticeable.

"Wait, that's Dipper?" Tucker asked. "That kid's in my Algebra II class! I didn't realize he was a freshman, I just thought he was short. So, what is he, just some sort of whiz kid?"

"I guess," Danny said. "Maybe Ford tutors him. The guy is apparently really into quantum physics or something." He watched as Dipper went to one of the lockers and tossed his backpack inside, shutting the lock and testing the padlock on the door.

Danny narrowed his eyes. Dipper had kept that backpack right at his side the entire time he'd been at the Fentons' house, and Danny still didn't have the slightest idea what had triggered that burning in his hand when he'd reached into it yesterday.

The locker room was beginning to clear out, and it seemed like this could be Danny's chance to get that little mystery out of the way. He told Tucker to go ahead, intending to stay in the corner of the locker room to wait for a chance to get into Dipper's locker, but the boy spotted him right before he left into the gym, and doubled back to greet him.

"Guess we have a class together, huh?" Dipper asked as he approached. "Even if it is just gym – doesn't really count as a class."

"Yep," was Danny's curt reply. _Go on, Dipper, go to class_ , he thought. _Just give me a minute alone in here_.

Dipper, though, apparently didn't receive the telepathic message, since he didn't budge. "You should probably get out there," he said. "Looks like we're the last ones out to class."

"Yeah, looks like it." Was this kid just being clueless and stubborn, or did he suspect Danny was up to something? Either way, he seemed in no mood to leave Danny alone in the locker room. "I was just going to… retie my shoes. The knots are too loose." Danny lifted his foot onto a bench, making a show of undoing the laces. "You go on ahead to class."

"I can wait for you," Dipper said. "I know it's embarrassing to walk in alone when you're the last to class."

"No, no, I'll be a couple minutes. I'm terrible with knots."

"I can wait."

Yeah, he definitely suspected something.

Danny bit back a groan of frustration as he retied his shoes and fought the urge to glance back over at Dipper's locker. Dipper, for his part, hovered by the doorway keeping a firm eye on Danny, and held the door open when he finally left the locker room.

As irritated as Danny was by Dipper's little strategy here, it at least had one thing going for it: it confirmed that Dipper was hiding something in that backpack of his, and he was determined to keep Danny away from whatever it was.

Which, of course, made Danny all the more determined to find out.


	8. Chapter 8

Man, the follower count on this story is just insane and overwhelming. Thank you so much, all! This chapter is, again, not plot-heavy, but I'm giving Danny and Dipper just a little bit of time together.

I have baskets of muffins for anyone who leaves a review. I mean, I can't send them to you or anything, I'll eat them myself, but I'll do it in your honor.

* * *

"Coach Tetslaff, can I go to the – "

"No."

Danny blinked, taken aback by the coach's sharp interruption. "No?"

"You were about to ask to go to the restroom, weren't you?" Tetslaff grunted.

"Um, I – "

"Well, you can forget it. Last year you took more bathroom breaks than everyone else in the class put together. I'm sick of it. I've been going easy on you for a while, but no more. Go to the bathroom during passing period or don't go at all."

"But – but it's an emergency!" Danny spluttered. "Seriously, I'm pretty sure my bladder is about to explode!"

Tetslaff looked entirely unfazed. "Why didn't you go before class?"

"I didn't have to go then."

"Too bad. You're just going to have to hold it."

Danny ground his teeth in frustration. "Look, I mean it, I really have to go. I legitimately might end up just making a mess on the track if I wait much longer. What will you do then?"

"I'll clean it up and get you a change of shorts," Tetslaff answered dryly. "Now get back over to the shotput line, everyone's gotta make a throw."

"But Coach Tetslaff – "

Instead of answering him again, Tetslaff blew her whistle shrilly in Danny's face, leaving his ears ringing as he went back to the shotput sector, grumbling furiously under his breath the whole time. Tucker fell back in line to stand next to him, brow wrinkled in curiosity. "I didn't see your ghost sense go off," he said quietly.

"It didn't," Danny muttered.

"Well then, what was that about?"

Danny glanced around, seeing if Dipper was within earshot. Luckily, he spotted him over on the track, with the group currently working on running hurdles. "Remember yesterday, when I said a freshman held me up getting to class?"

"Actually, you just said they were 'being weird'," Tucker said. "But go on."

"Dipper was that freshman. He'd dropped his bag in the hall, and when I was putting his stuff back into it… it hurt. Felt like I was sticking my hand down the barrel of one of dad's weapons. And now he's been keeping his eye on me, not letting me anywhere near that backpack."

"Ah, classic story of wanting what you can't have, huh, Danny?"

" _Tucker."_

"Sorry, I'm taking this seriously, I am. But, come on, you said he's the nephew of that ghost expert, right? Doesn't seem so weird that he'd want to keep an ecto-weapon around, for protection or something."

Danny shook his head. "If that's the case, why is he hiding it, and from me specifically? My parents are ghost hunters, it's not like he'd be embarrassed about me finding out he's got a ghost weapon."

"Huh, guess that's true…" Tucker said slowly. "Okay, how about this, maybe he nicked his ghost weapon out of Fentonworks. He looks like the kind of kid who could be sneaky if he puts his mind to it. Maybe he slipped down into the lab yesterday while he was at your house, grabbed something shiny, and doesn't want you to know he stole something from you?"

"No, he started acting like this yesterday morning. As in, before he ever came to my house. Can't be that."

Tucker shrugged. "Fine. Maybe he's carrying around a non-ghost weapon, maybe a whole bag full of vials of acid, and he's planning to use it to attack people all over the school, and he's afraid that you're on to his little game."

Danny scowled. "I thought you said you were taking this seriously."

"No, no, I am. But I ran out of serious ideas. So, guess you're just gonna have to wait until it's unattended, go ghost, and take a look?"

"That's what I was _trying_ to do. This is the only time I've ever seen him let that bag out of his sight, and Tetslaff's decided to go all prison warden on us. Maybe I could make myself throw up or something, get sent to the nurse."

Tucker wrinkled his nose up at the thought. "Ew. You're not planning on doing that every time you have to get out of gym, are you? Your breath is gonna become a deadly weapon."

"Fine, fine, I won't do that," Danny said. They had reached the front of the line for the shotput, and Tucker scooped up one of the heavy balls, tucked it into his shoulder, and launched it as hard as he could. The ball bounced to a halt no more than three feet away, and a few snickers rose up from the students in line behind them.

"Say, Tucker," Danny whispered. "How badly do you think I could injure myself with one of those balls? Bad enough to go to the nurse?"

"Are you serious?" Tucker hissed back. "You're really that desperate to get into that backpack?"

"I'm that desperate. I've got ghost healing powers, it'll mend itself."

Tucker sighed and threw his hands up in surrender. "All right, go nuts. It's your funeral."

With a nod, Danny stepped up to the white line, picking up one of the shotput balls. Carefully, he set up his stance the way Tetslaff had demonstrated – palm out, the weight of the ball on his fingers, hand tucked along his cheek. Then, with a grunt of effort, he threw the ball. Straight down onto his foot.

He bit his lip to keep himself from yelping as the sharp squelch sounded and his foot immediately began throbbing in pain. He could even hear some sympathetic intakes of breath from the students behind him. Tucker hurried over, and the two of them pried Danny's shoe off, both wincing when they saw the spot of red that had soaked through his sock.

"Coach Tetslaff!" Tucker called, spotting her across the track. "We've got an injury!"

He appeared to have stopped her in the middle of yelling at Dash about something or another – honestly, with Dash, there was no end to the possibilities of what she could be getting mad at him for. Tetslaff glanced between Dash and Tucker, apparently torn between continuing her diatribe and tending to an injured student. It seemed the injury won out, because she snapped, "Detention, Mr. Baxter. For the rest of the week," before stomping over to the shotput circle.

"All right, what's going on here?" she demanded as she approached. "Fenton, you hurt?"

"Yeah," Danny said, putting on his best wounded-puppy face. "The shotput ball, I hit myself in the foot with it. I think it might be broken."

Tetslaff stared at Danny's bleeding foot, incredulity written across her face. "Are you serious, Fenton? How the _hell_ did you manage to throw the shotput ball at your _foot_?!"

"Um, well, you know," Danny replied with a timid shrug. "I'm clumsy."

" _Clumsy?_ Fenton, were you not paying any attention _at all_ when I went over how to throw for shotput? Honestly, of all the goddamned – "

"Uh, Coach Tetslaff?" Tucker interrupted. "Shouldn't Danny go to the nurse?"

"Right, right, fine," Tetslaff grunted. "You can split the hall pass with Pines. Between the two of you, you've got two good legs, you can make it down there."

"Wait, Pines?" Danny asked. An eerie, sinking feeling began to settle in his stomach.

"Yeah." Tetslaff pointed with her thumb to a bench next to the hurdles, where Danny now noticed Dipper Pines sitting, a washcloth held against his knee and rivulets of red snaking down his leg. "Mr. Baxter over here – " she shot a deathly scowl toward Dash – "thought it'd be real funny to kick one of the hurdles over while people were running them. Lucky the kid's kneecap didn't shatter. Reckless, thoughtless little…" Her muttering continued under her breath, and Danny was sure he caught a few words that weren't intended for young ears.

Still seething, Tetslaff ripped a hall pass from her clipboard and shoved it into Danny's hands. Danny cast one last hopeless look toward Tucker before straightening up and hobbling toward Dipper. Great, he thought, just great. He smashed his foot and he _still_ didn't get a chance to peek into that bag.

Life wasn't fair.

He reached Dipper at the bench, and could see now that the kid had his eyes screwed shut and his teeth clenched, breathing deeply through the pain in his bloodied left knee. Danny felt bad for him – of course, he would have felt much _worse_ for him were he not so frustrated with him at the moment, but that was neither here nor there. "Asphalt really did a number on you, huh?"

Dipper wrenched his eyes open. "Yeah," he said, the strain in his voice not quite disguised. "Guess you're taking me over to the nurse?"

"Actually, we're taking each other," Danny said, lifting his foot to show Dipper the blood on it.

"Ouch," Dipper mumbled with a grimace. "Well, let's get this over with." Slowly he climbed off the bench and stood up straight, or at least, at straight as he could while trying to keep all his weight on his right leg.

Danny slipped his arm around Dipper's back and onto his shoulder. Dipper was shorter than him, but not so much that he couldn't comfortably keep him upright. "Come on," Danny said. "We'll three-legged-race this, okay?"

Dipper nodded, and the two of them set off into the school, ignoring the scattering drops of scarlet they left in their wake. It was uncomfortably silent for a little while. Danny kept trying to think of a lead-in to a conversation, but all he really wanted to talk to Dipper about was that damn backpack. Still, he doubted Dipper would be up for a pleasant chat about it, so he selected a different topic instead. "So, this was Dash's doing, I hear?" he asked.

"Dash… is he the blond one with the shoulders?"

"That's Dash."

"Then yeah, it was him. Is he kind of, um…"

"A jerk?" Danny supplied. "Obnoxious? The crown king of assholes?"

Dipper snorted. "Okay, good, I wasn't just imagining things. Does he do this sort of thing often, then?"

"It's his bread and butter. Trust me, as someone who's been his favorite chew toy for years, you do not want him to take an interest in you."

Dipper peered up at Danny. "Favorite chew toy?"

Danny sighed. "Let's just say I'm not the most popular guy at Casper High. And Dash especially likes to make my life miserable whenever the opportunity strikes. Not exactly a fun time for me."

Dipper turned his gaze back to his feet, or, his foot, which he and Danny were still placing slowly and cautiously. "I know the feeling."

"Do you?" Danny asked. "How many times have you been stuffed into your own locker, huh?"

"I don't know. I lost count."

Danny stopped in his tracks, nearly causing Dipper to tip forward at the sudden halt. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah," Dipper answered, furrowing his brow at Danny's change in tone. "And once in a sousaphone case. Took hours before someone finally got me out. I decided to drop out of band after that one."

"…Huh." Danny continued moving forward, but this time he was looking at Dipper rather than his feet. Now that he thought about it, Dipper _was_ the sort of kid who would make a prime target for bullies. Short, scrawny, bookish, timid, and, if Danny's impression of him so far was correct, pretty awkward. "You know, Dash once forced me to eat a pair of undershorts. Like, actually eat it."

Dipper nodded in understanding. "Had something a bit like that happen back in middle school, except it was a live goldfish instead of underwear. Still not enjoyable."

"And in elementary school, whichever kid picked me for Secret Santa would get me coal. Don't know how they managed to talk their parents into going along with that, but they did it."

"My whole class would straight-up refuse to get me cards on Valentine's day."

"Ever been tied to the flagpole?" Danny asked.

"Naturally. Had your clothes tossed into the dumpster during gym class?"

"Of course. Rotten eggs in your backpack?"

"Never got the smell out. They steal your school projects often?"

"Obviously, that's just classic. Swirlies?"

"Once in one that hadn't been flushed beforehand."

Danny shuddered. "Good God," he said. "We should start making bingo cards or something. Hand out candy bars if you get five in a row."

"Sure. Bonus points will be handed out based on severity of injuries and cost of property damage."

Danny snorted. Of all the things that he and Dipper could bond over, he never would have expected it to be sharing bullying experiences. But it seemed to be doing the job. This was the least tense he had seen Dipper since he'd met him, and he himself had even finally stopped thinking about what the kid could be hiding long enough to just chat. Maybe Dash had done some good this time, if you ignored the part where Dipper tore his knee open on the track.

By this point they had arrived at the front office, and they sank into two of the stiff metal chairs lining the front wall while the receptionist paged the nurse.

"So, I take it that I'll still have to worry about that sort of thing at this school?" Dipper asked Danny as they waited for the nurse to come out.

"Yeah. Sorry. I know, it sucks. If it helps, I'm usually pretty good at taking the brunt of it. As long as you stay off Dash's radar, it won't be so bad."

"He already injured me in gym class and got detention for it," Dipper pointed out. "I think I'm already on his radar."

"Oh yeah. Well, in that case… um, best of luck to you."

"Thanks," Dipper said, the single syllable drenched in sarcasm.

Danny chuckled, and the two of them sat up as the nurse finally arrived. "Which one of you first?" she asked.

"You go ahead," Danny said. "Think the bleeding on my foot's nearly stopped already."

Dipper glanced uncertainly toward the nurse and back to Danny. The latter was tempted to point out that if he needn't worry about him taking off and trying to get to his backpack; the receptionist was still here keeping a close eye on him. It seemed, though, that Dipper figured that out himself, since he nodded and followed the nurse into her office. "See you later, Danny," he said as he walked by.

"Yeah. See you, Dipper." Danny watched as the nurse shut her door, then he stretched in his seat to get comfortable, crossing his legs and resting his folded hands behind his head.

The kid was growing on him, he realized. Who would have guessed it?


	9. Chapter 9

I know, I know, it's been an aeon and a half since I updated. It's been a combination of work keeping me busy, family stuff going on, and just the fact that I naturally tend toward laziness. But, hey, better late then never right? So here's something to sate your appetites for now. Thank you for the continued support! Every favorite, follow, and comment increases my power, and soon I will be cutting quite the imposing figure.

* * *

"So, I'm trying to figure it out," Tucker said. "Are those online articles overselling this Stanford Pines, or are you just underselling him?"

"You can't wait ten more minutes to find out?" Danny asked.

"Nope." Tucker bounced a little on the soles of his feet in impatience as he, Danny, and Sam walked along the sidewalk, halfway through their trek on the way to Danny's house. "I have to fixate on _something_ , you know, or I'm gonna die of boredom. Why do you have to live so far from school?"

"Oh, don't complain," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "It's not my fault Jazz is all about those 'extra-curriculars'. Can't get a ride from her every day."

"What club does she have today, anyhow?" Sam asked.

Danny shrugged. "I dunno, debate team? Key Club? Overachievers anonymous? I can't keep track."

"Don't suppose there's any chance you could fly us the rest of the way?" Tucker whined.

"You want me to go flying toward home in ghost form, right toward a scientist who may or may not actually be a perfectly competent ghost hunter? No thanks."

"It's not that much farther, Tucker," Sam said. "Honestly, is walking in the school hallways the only exercise you ever get?"

"Even that's too much," Tucker replied.

Danny shoved Tucker by the shoulder. "Hey, how about, if you go the rest of the walk without complaining about walking, I sneak you some of my dad's secret-stash fudge, okay?"

"Hmm. Kinda hate to give up the complaining, but I also like that fudge. All right, deal. New topic?"

"Actually," Sam said, "How about we just enjoy some rare peace and quiet during our walk?"

Tucker gave her an exaggerated eye roll, but complied. Danny wasn't being such a great conversational partner at the moment anyway, and he knew it. He was still, admittedly, distracted by the thoughts on the Pines family that had occupied his mind all day, too much so to give his usual courtesy laughs to Tucker's bad jokes.

Fortunately, they only had a couple of minutes left to walk in silence before they arrived at FentonWorks – Danny noticing when they did that the El Diablo was in the driveway again, which meant Ford was here – and traipsed into the house, dropping their backpacks by the door and moving into the kitchen. Danny climbed up onto the counter to reach the top of one of the overhead cabinets and retrieved the tupperware container that held Jack's secret stash of fudge, and gave Tucker a piece as promised.

A soft industrial hum coming from the basement told them that the Fentons and Ford were hard at work in the floor below, and Danny motioned Sam and Tucker to follow him. "All right," he said. "You guys ready?"

"Finally we meet the famous Ford!" Tucker cheered, grinning through a mouthful of fudge.

"You might want to chew and swallow before we go down there, Tucker," Sam said, wrinkling her nose. "Right now your mouth isn't exactly a stellar example of a good first impression."

"By the way," Danny added as he opened the basement door and started leading them downstairs, keeping his voice softer now, "When you meet him, don't stare at his fingers."

"Why would we stare at his – ?" Tucker began, but he was cut off when Jack spotted the group on the stairs, and waved heartily at them before bouncing over with a broad grin.

As soon as he had reached them, he was gripping Sam and Tucker by a wrist each, tugging them into the lab proper. "Ah, Tucker! Sam! I don't suppose Danny brought you down here to meet the famous Stanford Pines, did he?"

"Wait just a moment, Jack," piped up Ford's voice from across the lab. He and Maddie were at one of the metal lab tables, bent over a container whose contents Danny couldn't see. Whatever it was, though, it definitely had the scientists' attention. Ford had some small tool in his hand and appeared to be in the middle of a miniaturized operation, while Maddie was looking on. The goggles of her haz-mat suit made it nigh impossible to see her eyes, but judging by the way she was remaining perfectly still as she stood enraptured by the procedure, Danny suspected that they weren't even blinking.

Jack waited for a moment while Ford finished up whatever he was doing. After about a minute of patient silence, Ford straightened up, removing his rubber gloves – custom-made ones, probably, not the disposable sort that Jack and Maddie preferred – and pulling the large, clear goggles off from wear they had sat over his glasses. "We'll monitor the effects over the next few days," he told Maddie. "See if the rate of deterioration has increased to a statistically significant level. We should probably be sampling a culture from the site of injection every few hours at least. Now then, how can I help you?" He finally turned toward Jack and the kids.

Jack nudged Sam and Tucker forward. "Couple of other little scientists for you to meet. This is Sam and Tucker. They're friends of Danny's, and they're around a lot, so you'll probably be seeing plenty of them. Did Danny tell you guys much about Stanford?"

"Nah, just mentioned him in passing," Sam replied with a perfectly straight face.

"Well," Jack said, beaming up at the older scientist, "All you need to know is that with him around, you're probably going to get to see some huge advances in ghost-hunting coming out of Fentonworks very soon."

"Nice to meet you Sam, Tucker," Ford said, not even acknowledging Jack's rambling. Danny was impressed. The man had been here for two days and was already completely enured to Jack's overbearing personality. Ford shook Sam and Tucker's hand, and naturally, Tucker stared fixatedly at it the whole time, eyes widening when he shook it. In retrospect, Danny realized that maybe telling him not to look at something was probably a great way to guarantee he would do just that. Fortunately, Ford either didn't notice or chose not to acknowledge it.

Sam did a better job of maintaining decorum, looking Ford in the eyes when she shook his hand. "So, what are you working on with the Fentons?"

"At the moment, we're mostly trying to see if we can get Mikhail Lomonosov to roll over in his grave," Ford answered, grinning.

"… What?"

Maddie, still standing over by the lab table, let out a laugh. "More specifically, we're attempting to defy the law of conservation of matter. An ambitious undertaking, sure, but Stanford has actually been looking into this project for a while now."

"Really it ties into overall transdimensional physics," Ford said. "The very concept of matter actual differs from dimension to dimension, so, should we be working with matter from another realm, there's no reason it needs to adhere to our dimension's laws of physics."

"Ultimately, if we can make any sort of real strides in the topic, the effects on ghost-hunting would be absolutely staggering," Maddie explained. "It wouldn't even be a matter of just destroying a ghost."

"Ripping it apart molecule by molecule," Jack interjected.

"It would be actually erasing every physical trace of it from existence."

"Oh. Huh. Wow." Danny hoped to high heaven that he wasn't showing any outward signs of his feelings on the matter on his face. Sam and Tucker were sneaking worried glances toward him, but he didn't know if that was because his expression had changed at all, or they were simply granting him some understandable sympathy. "So, um, that's what you're working on over there?"

Ford nodded. "Maddie acquired a ghost sample for me to run a couple of test ideas on. A couple of the formulae your parents have here for your weapons could probably be repurposed into working toward the matter erasure we're aiming for."

"You – you have a ghost sample?"

"Not one of the better ones," Maddie answered. She picked up the container on the lab table and tilted it so that Danny could finally see what they'd been working with, displayed through a transparent lid on the container. Danny was relieved to see that the sample was just a small ectopus.

Although, just because that was all they were experimenting on for now didn't mean they'd try it on bigger targets in the future…

"So, what exactly is the point of this?" Tucker piped up, his voice shaking Danny out of his thoughts. "Is it really necessary, I mean? There are already plenty of weapons and stuff available to get rid of ghosts."

"Not entirely, there aren't," Ford said. "Remember, ghosts as we know don't live in the sense that we usually accept as life and sentience. They are denizens of a soulscape interacting with a dimension of physical form. So when people from our dimension fight ghosts, even supposedly 'kill ghosts' they are not so much actually destroying it as they are reconfiguring their matter into another planar state. And if the knowledge we have of the structure of the ghost zone and its dimensional makeup is correct, I'd say that many ghosts are in a state where they essentially took a wrong turn to the dimension most think of as the afterlife. But in that process, they take on a soulscape form, and become anchored to this ghost dimension. They likely can never really progress to another dimensional state from there. Or, I suppose, theoretically, it's still possible, but current available information on transdimensional leaps actually suggest that – "

"The bottom line being," Maddie interrupted, "The ghosts of the ghost zone are basically in a state when they can never truly 'die'. They can shift dimensional form, they way humans do when they move on to the afterlife, but because of the way they restructured in the ghost zone dimension, they'll never really be at peace. That probably is at least part of the reason ghosts are so naturally prone to anger and chaos."

Sam had her brow deeply furrowed as she listened to the explanation, and slowly she asked, "And so, this is the solution? If they can't die the way you want them to, you'll just… erase them?"

"I understand how it sounds," Ford said. "But really, it's the kinder option. Without a real end to a ghost's existence, it will just continue to shift toward destruction and rage until those are all that's left. If that is going to be a by-product of immortality, then non-existence is the preferable option."

Danny was starting to feel dizzy. He hadn't been expecting to be forced into a philosophical crisis when he came home from school today, and it was about a dozen times more painful then anything he'd ever be able to pull off with a shotput ball. Hoping to avoid having to think about Ford's experiments any further, he took Sam's wrist and gently starting tugging her back toward the stairs. "Well, uh, this – this is fascinating stuff, it really is. I should probably let you get back to work. Maybe see if Dipper or Mabel need homework help or something."

"They're not here today," Ford said. "Their uncle Stan took them out to a movie. One of those superhero ones. Can't recall which; they just make so many of them nowadays, don't they?"

"Their – wait, I thought _you_ were their uncle Stan."

"I meant my brother, Stanley. We're both their legal guardians."

"Stanford and Stanley?" Tucker laughed. "Seriously?"

Ford offered him a shrug. "My father was not the most creative man. Now, I don't want to keep you, so you three go on. If you're interested in anything else we're doing in here, though, feel free to come down." He bobbed his head in salutation and turned around, heading back to the table, sliding a lab notebook open and pulling a pen from his pocket. "By the way, Danny," he added. "Thank you for spending time with Dipper and Mabel yesterday."

"Oh. Right, no problem."

"Really, I do appreciate it. They seemed to like you well enough. Dipper especially seemed quite intrigued by you."

Danny paused in his slow backward walk to the stairs. "He was?"

Ford nodded. "He was asking a lot of questions about you last night. Wanted to know what we talked about when we met, what Jack and Maddie told me about you, what my impression was."

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" Maddie said, beaming at Danny. "Danny's got himself a little fan."

Ford chuckled. "You honestly should be flattered. Dipper doesn't often want to get to know someone that well unless they've really piqued his interest in some way. So, whatever you guys did together, it worked. Mabel seemed pretty interested in you as well, but, full disclosure, she's that way with pretty much every new boy she meets. Don't tell her I told you that, though," he added with a grin.

Danny forced out a laugh. "Yeah, uh, we – I guess we bonded a bit. That's – that's great. That's wonderful. We've really got to go now, homework and all that."

"I'll tell Dipper you said hi," Ford called after him as Danny turned tail and ran up the basement stairs two at a time, Tucker and Sam following close behind.


	10. Chapter 10

I've hit over seven thousand views on this thing, which is... _wow_. I'm so thankful for the amazing response this fic has gotten so far (and heck, we're still not even close to the real meat and potatoes of the plot!), and I hope to see your continued support moving forward!

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it," Danny snapped as he stomped into his room and flopped down across his bed.

Sam and Tucker, still following close behind, shared a glance before Sam closed the bedroom door. "Neither of us said you had to talk about anything."

"You were _going_ to," Danny said. "I know that look. That's Jazz's signature look, you know. That 'something just happened and now you're feeling things and I want you to spill your guts so we can analyze you' look. Well, nothing doing. We all heard what he said, now we move on."

"Okay, that's fine," Sam said quietly. She edged over to his desk and sank into the chair. "Should we start on homework or something?"

"Yeah, homework," Danny muttered. He was silent as Sam set her bookbag on the floor and began pulling out her study materials, and then, "But, just so it's out there, if I _was_ going to talk about it – "

"Oh boy," Tucker whispered.

" – I would say, who the _hell_ does Stanford Pines think he is? Seriously, what makes him think he has any right to try to erase people – ghosts, whatever – from existence? I mean, he said himself it doesn't even work with the laws of physics! That's just arrogant, is what it is, trying to play _God_ , screwing with how reality works. Thinking it's _his_ call whether something is allowed to exist. And oh, no, no, just killing a ghost isn't enough, is it, he's gotta go the whole nine yards, get rid of every single goddamn trace of its existence. And then he tries to say he's doing it because it's _kinder_?! It's the 'preferable option'? Preferable option, my undead ass, he's just trying to be high and mighty about it so he doesn't look bloodthirsty or whatever. I mean, God, my parents may try to eviscerate me on a weekly basis, but at least they're up front about their motivations! They don't try to act like there's some moral reason, don't make it some stupid _ethics_ thing. You're a scientist, Pines, not a freakin' philosopher. Lousy, arrogant, holier-than-thou, fat-headed, pompous little…"

The rest of his rant was lost as he rolled over onto his stomach and began muttering it into his pillow.

"Yeah, and can we address the elephant in the room?" Tucker piped up. "Let's talk about the six fingers. That's weird, right? Isn't that weird?"

"Yes, very weird," Sam said. "Look, Danny, I meant it, it's fine. You don't have to talk about him. In fact, it's probably better that you don't until you've let your head cool a bit."

Danny's head shot up from his pillow to shoot her a dark scowl. "My head is cool," he growled.

"Hey, we don't blame you if it's not," Tucker said. "I mean, geez, if Ford had gone on talking for a minute more, I would've started having an existential crisis, and I'm not even the one whose existence he was – "

"Anyway," Sam interrupted sharply. "We can just concentrate on homework now, all right? No need to get ourselves worked up over anything he said. It was all hypothetical anyhow; who knows if anything will even happen with it, let alone happen to you particularly." She flipped open one of the textbooks. "Want to start with English?"

Danny sighed, rolling over onto his back so he was facing the ceiling. "Fine. What was the assignment?"

"Discussion questions on the Dickinson poems Lancer assigned us. You read them, right?"

"Yeah, I read them."

"Okay." Sam unfolded the assignment paper that she'd stuck between the pages of the book and read the first question out loud. "In the first poem assigned, how does the use of personification affect the tone of the poem?"

Danny paused, chewing on his lip. "Uh, what was personified?"

Sam lowered the paper to peer over it at Danny. "What do you – was it seriously not obvious?" She looked over to Tucker, who only answered with a helpless shrug. "I thought you both said you'd read the assignment!"

"We say a lot of things," Tucker said.

"Ugh, fine, I guess I have to do that for you too, don't I?" Sam said with an exasperated eye roll. She picked up the textbook and began reading aloud. "Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste, And I had – "

"Hey, Sam?"

"…Yeah, Danny?"

"Do you honestly think this is the sort of poem I want to hear right now?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Sheepishly she shut the textbook, placed it back into her bag, and pulled out her world history book instead. "Better?"

Danny nodded. "Better."

* * *

Danny decided it would be best to skip the family breakfast altogether the next morning. If yesterday's meal had been anything in terms of precedent, his parents would be spending this morning raving about Stanford's work again, and he did not want to hear it. Instead, he told them he had to go into school early for homework help, and he'd take his scooter and grab breakfast in the cafeteria.

"Homework help?" Maddie asked. "It's only the third day of school. Do you really already have to get extra help?"

"Well, I mean, it's geometry," Danny told her. "It's hard."

"If you're already having trouble, that's not a good sign. Do you want to ask Jazz if she can tutor you?"

"No, it's fine, really."

"Or if you don't want Jazz to tutor you, we can hire someone outside the family. I'd really hate to see you falling behind again, Danny, especially after your grades last year."

"Mom, I don't need a tutor," Danny groaned. "I've just got, like, two questions for the teacher, that's all. Don't make it a big deal."

"All right," Maddie said, but her tone was still doubtful. "But Danny, promise me that if you're having trouble with any classes, you'll let me and your dad know, okay? I'd like to know before we have to discover halfway through the semester that you're failing a class."

"Fine, I promise."

He managed to escape the house before anyone had the chance to interrogate him further. Sure, Maddie's suspicions were mostly alleviated, and Jack of course would accept what he said at face value, no questions asked, but he knew Jazz would still be more than curious about his absence that morning. Not to mention that if she'd had the chance to speak to Ford at all yesterday, she'd definitely be itching for a nice long discussion about it with him.

Oh well. That was a problem for later.

It was a bit strange arriving at school so early, since he was so accustomed to not showing up until just under the wire, sometimes making it into homeroom right as the bell rang. At this time in the morning, the only kids around were those who were in those sports teams and music groups that met to practice at the most ungodly hours of the day. The fortunate part was that this meant the line in the cafeteria was almost non-existent. It took him only a minute to finish picking out his breakfast – he went simple, a hashbrown and a cup of peaches – and paying at the register, and then he turned to look around and decide where to sit.

"Hey! Hey, Danny! Danny Fenton! Hey, over here!"

The now-familiar voice got the attention of nearly every student in the cafeteria, but Mabel Pines didn't seem to care. She just continued smiling over at Danny, waving her hand so hard she may as well have been trying to guide a plane onto a landing strip. She was wearing one of those sweaters again, he noticed, this one a bright green dotted with daisies, and Dipper was beside her on the bench, head ducked down under his cap, chewing on a pen and staring at a book in front of him, which Danny was coming to recognize as his signature posture.

Although he would have preferred to have found somewhere to sit by himself, there was no way he could convincingly pretend that he hadn't heard or seen Mabel calling him over, so, trying to keep the resignation off his facial expression, he strode to their table and set his tray down across from her.

"Hi, Danny!" she greeted him, far too energetically for so early in the morning. "Been a while, right? Well, okay, two days, but still. Hey! I think we have the same lunch block as well! I'm pretty sure I saw you in the cafeteria yesterday too, but you were already sitting and one of the other girls in freshman chorus wanted me to sit with her so I didn't stop by and say hi then, but I probably should have, huh? Anyway, hi! How've you been?"

"Uh… been good," Danny answered. As he started on his own breakfast, he glanced at her tray. It was scattered with chocolate muffin wrappers, a few loose frosted Cheerios, and no less than four of the paper plates on which the cafeteria served cinnamon rolls. Well, that explained the energy. Mabel was already on a sugar rush. He couldn't help but wonder how long it was going to be before the girl gave herself diabetes. "So, why are you here so early?"

"Art club's got an informational meeting before school today. You know, I was vice president of our art club back in middle school. Kind of a huge deal, you know."

"You're joining art club too?" Danny asked Dipper.

"I'm here for moral support," Dipper answered. "Also, Stan didn't want to have to make two trips." He didn't look up from his work while he replied, and Danny subtly craned his head forward, trying to glimpse what had him so focused. He was disappointed to see it was just a Sudoku puzzle.

"So, what are you here for? Club? Sport? Ooh, I know the swim team has morning practices! Are you a swimmer Danny?"

The way her eyes brightened when she asked that told Danny that she was way too excited by the prospect, so he cut her thoughts before she could imagine it further. "No, no, I'm not an athlete. I just came in early for homework help. Geometry."

"Oh. Well, hey, you know what, you can just ask Dipper for help!" Mabel said, elbowing her brother, who finally looked up and set his puzzle aside. "He's a total math kid. He actually already finished Geometry, last year, the nerd. He's actually been in math contests at the state level. They're, like, really boring, but apparently they're a big deal for some reason."

"They're a big deal for a good reason," Dipper said. "If you place in the top ten at state, you can get some huge scholarships."

"But you didn't."

Dipper's cheeks reddened. "I won regional, and I got eighteenth at state. Eighteenth best math student in California is nothing to sneeze at."

"Yeah, but it's also nothing to give a scholarship for," Mabel teased, tugging the visor of his cap down his forehead.

Danny decided to step in before the horseplay got too far. "Actually, ah, I don't need any tutoring for it. It was just a quick question for the teacher, that's all."

"You came to school this early to ask one quick question?" Dipper asked.

"Well, I didn't know how quick it would be."

"Okay, but hey, for future reference, you need math help, just ask Dipper. He does half my math homework anyway, he doesn't mind at all."

"Um, actually," Dipper said, "I kind of do mind, if we're being – "

"But I'm your sister and you love me so you're happy to it anyway, right?"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"Yay. So, yeah, Danny, here's your math buddy. We're gonna be over at your place after school today, actually, so if you've got homework…"

"Wait, wait, you're coming by again?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. We don't have anything after school, Dipper's been wanting to try and get some time with Ford in the lab. Oh, Ford was saying if you want to come down and join, that would be fun! Just a big old group of friends, learning about ghosts together!"

Danny stared at her, the pear he'd been biting into suddenly turning tasteless. "Oh, um, are – are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yes," Dipper said, frowning. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Well, it's, uh, it's just – you know, you're new in town, you don't want to just stay cooped up in my parents' basement helping with lab experiments, do you?"

"Kind of, yeah," Dipper answered.

Danny shook his head. "No, you know what, why don't we get out of the house for a bit, do something else? My friends and I can show you some spots to hang out around town or something. We could, uh…" He paused as he tried to think of any decent attractions in Amity Park. "I could show you the mall? Or, there's this burger place people at school like to go to."

"You know, that does sound a heck of a lot more fun," Mabel said. "Wanna do that instead, Dip?"

"I dunno, Mabel, I kinda actually wanted to talk to Ford about – "

"Oh, you can talk to Ford any time!" Danny interrupted. "But you're only new in town once."

Mabel and Dipper looked at each other, seeming for a few seconds to be having a silent conversation – Danny had heard before that twin telepathy was a thing, but he didn't know for certain – before Dipper finally shrugged and Mabel gleefully clapped her hands together. "Mall and burger place it is! For now, come on, Dipper, art club thingy's starting soon."

She collected her tray, waiting for Dipper to get up and join her in returning it. Danny decided that he was finished as well – that other half of the pear was just going to half to deal with being compost – and got up to follow along behind them. Mabel kept up a steady stream of jabbering to Dipper about all the projects she was hoping to work on in the art club all the while, not stopping until they were at the cafeteria doors about to part ways, when she finally took a break to send a "Bye, Danny! See you after school!" his way.

"Yeah, see you then," Danny said with a nod. "Bye Mabel, Dipper."

"What's up with your foot?"

Danny blinked, taken by surprise by Dipper's abrupt question. "My – what?"

"Your foot," Dipper said, gesturing toward it. "I thought you hurt it pretty bad yesterday."

Oh. _Oh._ Oh crap.

He had completely forgotten. Until this moment he hadn't even noticed that Dipper still had thick bandaging around his knee. Had the kid been limping? He couldn't remember, he hadn't been paying attention.

"Yeah, I, um, I thought I had," Danny stammered. "Guess it wasn't hurt as bad as I thought it was. I can barely even feel anything there now."

"You were bleeding straight through your shoe."

"… I'm anemic."

"I thought you become anemic _after_ you bleed a lot, not the other way around."

Danny huffed and ran a hand through his hair, leaving the locks standing on end. "Look, I – I dunno what to tell you. It stopped bleeding just fine and just managed to heal up quick. I guess the foot gods were smiling on me yesterday or something."

Dipper's brows were deeply furrowed, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Mabel grabbed and tugged at his elbow and cut it off. "Dipper, not being injured is a good thing. Gift horse, you know? Now come on, I don't want to be late for art club."

"Right. Right, sorry," Dipper said, turning and let Mabel start leading him down the hall. "See you later, Danny," he called over his shoulder.

And it may just have been Danny's imagination, but it almost sounded like a warning.

So much for bonding with the kid.


	11. Chapter 11

I know, I know, it's been, what, a month? Part of it was me being busy, but part was just my general laziness rearing its ugly head. Ah well. Better late than never, right? There's gonna be a bit of action next chapter, but until then, I'm here to provide the lead-up. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Jazz, fortunately, didn't have any urgent extracurricular-activity-related matters to attend to after school that day, so she was able to give Danny a ride home, and this time, the Pines twins tagged along. Danny was initially surprised to see them in the parking lot after school following Jazz to her car, though he supposed it made more sense than having one of their uncles come by to take them to the exact same place he and Jazz were going.

Still, the car ride with them wasn't exactly fun. Mabel, who seemed to have a total inability to sit still for longer than a minute, sat behind Danny and kept swinging her legs throughout the entire ride, hitting the back of his seat just lightly enough that it was probably unintentional, just hard enough that Danny could feel it and be irritated by every kick. Dipper, meanwhile, was staring at Danny on end, which the latter could see in the rear-view mirror and was trying his best to ignore.

Jazz had met the twins only briefly before, so she took the helm in regards to steering the conversation, asking them about what their lives were like back in California and how they were adjusting to Amity Park. Mabel, as usual, did most of the talking, Dipper mostly only answering when Jazz directly addressed him. All of it was information Danny knew already – their hobbies, their basic likes and dislikes – so he pretty much tuned out the whole ride, keeping his attention instead on the buildings flicking past the window.

They stopped at the Fenton residence for a brief moment to give the three younger teens the chance to drop off their school things and let Maddie, Jack, and Ford know where they were going. Danny and Mabel dropped their backpacks off in Danny's bedroom; Dipper, naturally opted to keep his with him instead. Danny didn't even bother attempting to argue.

The three of them unloaded in the mall parking lot just in front of the building – that is, Mabel and Dipper did. Before Danny could leave, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked over to see Jazz, her signature 'concerned' face plastered on in all its glory. "We're going to have to talk once you get back, you know."

"About what?" Danny asked.

"You know full well what. There's a reason you ducked out of breakfast this morning, isn't there?"

"You figured that out all on your own, master detective?"

"I'm serious, Danny," Jazz sighed. "Look, if there's anything you want to tell me now – "

"Hey Danny!" Mabel's voice interrupted. She had approached the passenger-side window and was now rapping on the glass. "What, are you stuck or something? Come on out, it's shopping time!"

Danny rolled his eyes and shrugged Jazz's hand off his shoulder. "Fine. I'll fill you in tonight. For now, I gotta go." He kicked open his door and hauled himself out of the car.

"Will you call me when you're ready to be picked up?" Jazz asked before Danny shut the door.

He shook his head. "Sam and Tucker are meeting us there in a bit. Sam's driver will take us home."

Jazz nodded and waved goodbye, letting Danny close the door and then pulling away from the sidewalk and out toward the exit of the parking lot.

"Sam's driver?" Mabel asked as Danny turned around. "Your friend has a driver?"

"Yeah."

"… So is she, like, rich or something?"

"Well, she prefers to keep it on the down-low."

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Great," he muttered as he turned and began leading the way into the mall. "Just what we need to deal with, another stuck-up rich girl."

"Sam's not stuck-up," Danny protested. "Trust me, once you meet her, you'll like her."

"Don't take him too seriously," Mabel said, elbowing Danny jovially. "He just pretends not to like rich girls because he's _embarrassed_ about his little _crush_." She said that last part louder, clearly intending for Dipper and everyone else in the vicinity to hear.

Dipper's face went pink and he shoved his hands into his pockets, keeping his head down as they walked so the brim of his hat was low over his face. "If you're talking about Pacifica, you couldn't be more off the mark."

"Uh-huh, and spending all day with her at the Mystery Fair last summer meant absolutely nothing, did it?"

" _Mabel_."

Mabel stuck out her tongue at him. "No need to be embarrassed, Danny doesn't know her. Besides, I think she's a cuter match for you than Wendy ever was. But hey, now that we're here instead, maybe you should try someone local? Hey, Danny, do you think Dipper is Sam's type?"

Danny didn't have the chance to get any response in besides an uncomfortable "um" before Dipper flipped Mabel's hair over her head, and she responded with a shove, laughing all the while. Danny was about to intervene, figuring roughhousing in the mall may attract some unwanted attention from a security guard, but they abandoned their squabble quickly in favor of the Tower Records they soon passed by, which they opted to go explore instead, Danny trailing behind like he was keeping a rowdy dog on a leash.

Even their shopping styles, Danny soon discovered as they bounced from store to store, were nothing if not reflective of the twins' personalities. Mabel favored all things bright and sparkly, getting caught up in a dance game demo in a GameStop, searching for flashy colors in every clothing store and asking people's opinions on various skirts and scarves before proceeding to completely ignore whatever they had to say, and even getting the boys to let her drag them into a Claire's for a few moments before Dipper insisted the merchandise inside was making him feel nauseous. He himself took a softer approach, browsing quietly through stacks or shelves, picking up one used 3DS game at the GameStop and a sweatshirt on clearance at an Aeropostale. He had at one point seemed to be making a beeline for the Barnes & Noble, but Mabel steered him away, informing Danny that if they let Dipper into that place, they wouldn't get to leave it until the mall closed.

It wasn't until they were a couple of hours into their shopping trip that Danny's phone buzzed with a message from Tucker letting him know that he and Sam had arrived and were on their way in. After checking the text, Danny tugged Mabel's sleeve for her attention. "Hey," he said. "Sam and Tucker are here. We'll meet up with them and then head over to Nasty Burger."

"Oh, good!" Mabel said. "About time, I've been starving for, like, the last hour!"

"You hadn't mentioned being hungry yet," Dipper pointed out.

"Well, we were busy, so I didn't notice."

"You'll have to hang in there for now," Danny said. "They're at the west entrance according to the text, so we'll have to go by the food court."

Mabel groaned. "Universe, why must you test me like this?" she sighed.

"One minute ago you were perfectly fine, and now you're starving so bad you have to be theatrical about it." Dipper shook his head and looked to Danny. "You see what I put up with?"

"She makes it hard to miss," Danny answered. He led the three of them across the mall until he spotted Sam and Tucker at the food court entrance and waved them over, ignoring the pout Mabel was casting toward the mall's many restaurants.

"Dipper, Mabel, I'd like you to meet Sam and Tucker."

"Hey, I know you!" Mabel cried, pointing at Sam as if in accusation. "You're in my study hall, aren't you? I love your lipstick, by the way! Purple's a good color on you. It matches your eyes!"

Sam stared at Mabel, then sent a quick is-this-girl-even-real glance at Danny before answering, "Uh, thanks."

"And I believe I've seen you in gym class," Tucker said to Dipper. "But never officially met, so, hey, it's good to finally meet the famous Pines twins we've heard so much about!"

"You've heard a lot about us?" Dipper asked, raising a brow.

Danny shot a glare Tucker's way while Sam subtly kicked him in the foot. Tucker grimaced at the kick and hurried to backtrack. "I mean, nothing unflattering, if that's what you're worried about. Just, you know, that you're at our school, your uncle works with his parents, the basics like that."

"So, ah, anyhow," Sam said, "How long have you been in Amity Park? How you liking it so far?"

"Been here around a week," Dipper answered. "And we're liking it fine."

Apparently he was being just as wordy toward Danny's friends as he was toward Danny. Probably to be expected. Danny looked to Mabel, expecting her to give a far more enthusiastic and long-winded answer, but she seemed to no longer be interested in the conversation, and instead was looking longingly back at the food court. "Mabel?" Danny asked. "Care to weigh in?"

"Oh my god, I smell cinnamon pretzels," Mabel said. "Does the food court have an Auntie Anne's? I think that's the smell. Oooh, I haven't had their cinnamon pretzels in so long."

"We're about to head over to Nasty Burger," Tucker said. "So if you're hungry, you don't have long to wait."

Mabel shook her head rapidly from side to side. "No, no, you don't get it, now I'm craving them. I don't suppose Nasty Burger has cinnamon pretzels? Because Mabel needs 'em bad."

"Might as well just let her get some," Dipper said. "Or we'll never stop hearing about it."

"Well, I'd hate for you not to be hungry when we get to Nasty Burger," Danny said. "Ruins the experience."

"Oh, don't worry," Mabel said, shaking her head again. "I'm hungry enough for, like, five meals plus dessert."

"Trust me, Danny," Dipper said flatly. "For Mabel, there's no such thing as a ruined appetite." He took Mabel by the upper arm and started toward the food court. "Just give us a few minutes and we'll meet back up with you."

"All right, well, hurry back." Danny watched them leave, Mabel chanting "Pretzels! Pretzels!" along the way, and turned to Sam and Tucker. "So? First impressions?"

Sam shrugged. "Based on what you've told us, I'd say fell right into expectations. Although, I did think you were exaggerating about Mabel. Don't think that anymore."

"For now, though," Tucker said. "Something more important: you know how Sam and I said we'd have to meet you here because we were working on a project?"

"Yeah…?" Danny had assumed that this was a project for chemistry class or something and hadn't bothered asking for elaboration.

"Well – " Sam reached into her purse and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, which she presented to Danny. "Behold our project."

Apprehensively Danny took the paper and unfolded it. At the top was the embossed letterhead of Amity Park General Hospital, followed my the name and information for general practitioner there whose name Danny didn't recognize. Below that, a letter had been typed out. "'To the teachers and staff of Casper High School,'" Danny read aloud. "'Please excuse Danny Fenton from classes and activities as he needs. I have diagnosed him with' – " He slowed down to sound the next phrase out. "'Detrusor hyperreflexia.' What the hell is detrusor hyperreflexia?"

"A variation of overactive bladder syndrome," Tucker said, smiling proudly.

Instantly Danny could feel himself blush brick-red. "What?!"

"It's to get you out of gym class! And other classes, too. You know, as ghost attacks warrant. It's a gift for you, see."

"Yeah, and you'd better be grateful," Sam added. "It was not easy to swipe that hospital stationery. And then of course we had to find the perfect diagnosis for you."

"It needed to be able to get you out of class repeatedly, but not be so bad that you'd have to be sent home."

"And we had to pay close attention to symptom stuff. Tucker wanted to go with irritable bowel syndrome, but that would mean having to fake all those stomach problems too."

"Plus the gas," Tucker added. "I considered supraventricular tachycardia, but since you've always been claiming to be going on bathroom breaks, I figured it'd be best not to bring a heart problem into it and just focus on that."

"Yep, eye on the bowels. Of course we thought of bladder infections, but we needed something longer-lasting, so we looked for anything that would get your bowels to be – "

"Would you two _please_ stop talking about my bowels?!" Danny snapped. A group of shoppers passing by sent Danny a curious look, which only made his blush deepen. He shoved the doctor's note into his pocket with a scowl.

"You're welcome," Sam said, grinning.

" _Thanks_ ," Danny grunted, rolling his eyes. "Think Dipper and Mabel are about done?" He looked back over toward the food court. "The lines aren't that long."

"I think they're at the counter now," Tucker said, squinting. "Won't be more than a couple of – " He stopped and looked up toward the ceiling as the lights flickered.

Suddenly a chill went up Danny's back, leaving goosebumps on his neck and ending in a puff of mist leaking from his mouth. Sam and Tucker turned to him, neither having missed that tell-tale sign.

"Oh no," he whispered. Not now. Not while Dipper and Mabel were here, not when transforming might very well be a final piece in the puzzle for that nosy kid. This was definitely not the time for fighting a –

 _"GHOST!"_ came a scream from the food court.


	12. Chapter 12

Welp, still a fairly lengthy break between chapter postings, but I've had a combination of work and Oktoberfest festivities distracting me. Fortunately I've managed to find little chunks of time throughout to work on writing. Thank you so much for your support for this story! If you haven't yet, feel free to favorite, follow, or review. Every notification I get for this story is like a little internet hug.

(Warning: Yes, I'm perfectly aware of the rules of how ghosts work in both the Gravity Falls and Danny Phantom universes, and while I'm using a hearty mixture of both in this fic, I'm going to be making a few tweaks. These tweaks are extremely minor and to my own taste, and everything has its purpose.)

* * *

It only took one look and a curt nod between Sam, Tucker, and Danny for the three of them to spring into action, each knowing the scenario well enough to know what to do almost like muscle memory. Danny ducked out of sight in first place he could find – in this case, around the corner where were tucked restrooms, drinking fountains, and a dusty row of payphones – in order to transform, while Sam pulled two small ecto-guns from her bag and passed one to Tucker. Once ready, the trio took off as fast as they could toward the food court.

Danny, having flown, was naturally the first of them to reach the food court, and he whipped his head about, looking for whichever ghost had caused the scream. Right now it was difficult to notice anything aside from the crowd of people tripping over each other to get out of there.

With two notable exceptions.

Dipper's hat and Mabel's bright sweater were unmistakable through the crowd, not only because of their distinctive colors, but because they were the only two moving in the opposite direction of the mob, away from the exits instead of toward. They stopped in front of the counter of one restaurant, ducking down as a veritable fridge-load of vegetables was hurled out toward them.

The Garden Table, the restaurant was named. Danny had heard about it from Sam. It was newly opened, some vegan restaurant that had taken over the premises of the recently-closed Steak Escape.

He groaned. He had a feeling he knew exactly which ghost he was dealing with here.

The question now was why Dipper and Mabel hadn't rushed out with the rest of the crowd.

In the periphery of his vision he saw Sam and Tucker entering the food court, so he was quick to shake his head and wave his hands back toward the exit, the international nonverbal sign for 'get out of here.' If the twins saw Sam and Tucker fighting the ghost, alongside Danny Phantom, with Danny Fenton nowhere in sight, it wouldn't take a detective to solve that mystery. The two of them got the message, since they responded by nodding and running back to the exit.

Good. That out of the way, he just had to deal with the Lunch Lady. It was going to be more difficult without Sam and Tucker, but it wasn't as if he'd never done it before. He just had to get the Pines twins out of the way. Another crash sounded from the kitchen of the Garden Table, but Dipper and Mabel seemed to simply ignoring, staying right there in front of the restaurant, currently hunched over something Danny couldn't see and making no move to leave.

"Hey!" he shouted as he swooped down toward them. "Get out of here, there's a gh- ow!"

He reeled back in the air, clutching his side, and brought his head back up to stare at the twins. He now saw what they had been hunched over – Dipper's backpack was on the floor, the largest pocket unzipped. Dipper himself was holding a thin metal pipe, no more than a foot or so in length, and had straightened up as Danny flew toward them. That must have been what had hit Danny in the side – but why did it hurt? Sure, a pipe to the ribs in his human form would no doubt be quite painful, but in his ghost form, it should have felt like twig.

Mabel was still rifling through the backpack when Dipper hit him, and only now seemed to have found what she was looking for, as she pulled what looked to be a pistol out of the backpack with a satisfied smile. Danny stared. It was only just now hitting him: these two had weapons. That's why they had stayed in the food court – they were planning to fight the ghost.

Also, apparently Dipper had been carrying weapons around at school with him, but that was a whole other kettle of fish that he'd worry about later.

Not that he would have had time to worry about it now. Just as he was opening his mouth to once again tell the twins to run, another blast came from the Garden Table, this time accompanied by a cash register and several chunks of countertop flying into the middle of the food court, and close behind them, the Lunch Lady emerged from the kitchen, lit up in green flame, eyes bulging in anger.

 _"Where – are – the – steaks?!"_ she bellowed, each word punctuated by another couple of tables flying back and herself expanding in size.

Danny sprang back, getting himself readied for a fight, ectoblasts forming in the palms of his hands. "So you're not just concerned with the cafeteria menu anymore? Well, it's nice to see you're expanding your palette."

The Lunch Lady rounded on him, and with a flick of her arm, sent a swarm of cutlery flying out of the restaurant and toward Danny. Danny countered them with a blast of ectoplasm. The shots collided, sending the silverware flying every which way like shrapnel, and one knife embedded itself no more than an inch above Dipper's head where he was ducking in front of the counter.

Danny grimaced. Those occasions when civilians ended up injured as collateral damage in a ghost fight were always a nightmare to him, and the last thing he wanted was for Dipper and Mabel to end up as casualties. "You see?" he shouted as his sent another blast toward the Lunch Lady, which she dodged. "This is why I told you to – "

He was interrupted by the other ghost letting out a roar of anger, and the Lunch Lady looked down at her arm, where a small hole went straight through one side of the arm to the other. He stared in confusion. He hadn't hit her with his ectoblast, so what had?

Another hole appeared, this one in her shoulder, and this time Danny heard the accompanying gunshot and turned to stare, incredulous, at Mabel, who was on her feet, both hands on the pistol she'd pulled out of Dipper's backpack. "Eat rock salt, ghost!" she shouted as she fired once more.

Oh. She was shooting salt. Well, it was a relief to know that there weren't actual bullets in that thing, even if she could still do some real damage with salt being launched at that speed. Especially, it seemed, toward the ghost.

"Good shot, Mabel!" he heard Dipper shout, his voice coming from behind Danny. The latter hadn't even seen Dipper get up and move, and had to whirl around to look for the kid darting among the overturned tables and chairs, his still-open backpack over his shoulder. "You keep her busy, I'll take care of this one!"

This one? Danny barely had time to comprehend what he'd said before Dipper was barreling toward him, catching him in the foot with the pipe this time. Danny hissed in pain and floated higher, out of the boy's reach. "Would you cut that out?!" he snapped. "I'm trying to – "

"I know what you're trying to do!" Dipper yelled, reaching back into the backpack and pulling out what looked to be a string beads, then holding them protectively out in front of him. "Stay back!"

Danny sighed and did just the opposite, flying toward Dipper. "Look, if you'd just listen…" He trailed off when he noticed he was starting to slow, and the air seemed to be growing remarkably thicker every inch he moved toward Dipper. What was that string of beads, some sort of amulet? Whatever it was, it distracted Danny just long enough for Dipper to dart under him, dip a hand into the bag, and scatter something on the floor in front of him. Danny yelped and flew back, an almost electric sensation surging through his body. He squinted to see what was on the floor. Blood blossoms. Of course.

He ducked as something flew by his head, grazing his ear, and turned to see that the Lunch Lady was assembling a new weapon. Hamburger patties from the Burger King, pepperoni from the Sbarro, any meat in the food court kitchens was flying toward her and assembling around her. At the moment, the other ghost still was fully occupied with Mabel, who up to this point had been successfully dodging whatever the Lunch Lady threw toward her. Now, though, it didn't seem like she could keep it up much longer, as she began moving her zig-zagging run toward Dipper, shouting, "Hey, Dip, I could use a bit of help!"

"One sec!" Dipper called, and once more reached into the backpack. "Say your prayers, ghost!"

Danny felt a splash of water hit his face and chest, and Dipper stood triumphantly, a round, now-empty bottle held out in his hands.

For a moment the two just stared at each other. Danny was the one to break the silence. "Okay. I'm wet. Good job?"

"Wa – wait a minute," Dipper stammered. "That was – that was supposed to – "

He was cut off when Mabel skidded to a stop next to him, nearly colliding with him head-on. "Dipper! I need the silver!"

"But that was holy water," Dipper said, seeming not to have heard her. "Why didn't it – ?"

The Lunch Lady seemed to have finished collecting all the meat she needed, because the hulking form of the meat monster was lurching toward them. Danny brought up an energy shield to block a barrage of raw patty meat hurtling toward them. God, he didn't have time for this.

"Wait a minute," Mabel said from behind him. "I know that ghost! Dipper, it's okay, that one's a good ghost!"

"A _good_ ghost?!" Dipper spluttered.

"I'm flattered," Danny called over his shoulder as he began hurling balls of ectoplasm toward the meat monster. "If you two are done trying to exorcise me or whatever, could you please _get out of here?!"_

Mabel ducked as a trash can flew over her head, then straightened back up and waved an arm at Danny, cheerfully replying, "That's okay, we're good here!"

Danny gritted his teeth, turning away from her and returning his attention to firing at the meat monster. It was still too strong and sturdy to be sucked into the Fenton Thermos, and he had no attention left to spare for the Pines twins. He was starting to feel that f they wanted to stick around and wind up covered in bruises shaped like chicken nuggets and hamburger patties, that was their prerogative.

He dodged another enormous glob of meat and circled back, another ectoblast at the ready, but it fizzled out when he felt a sharp heat strike through him. He ground his teeth harder and flew back. Damn it, those stupid blood blossoms were there. He made a mental note to fly higher, stay out of range, as he recharged his ectoblast, sending it the meat monster's way.

The monster snarled as the ectoblast grazed him, and it heaved toward Danny. Before it could launch any more of its meat at him, though, it let out a furious, pained roar, and Danny could see a reddish smoke spiraling up from the monster's base and hear a soft sizzling. Only then did he realize that the monster had just tumbled right into the blood blossoms.

Danny's eyes lit up. Well, as long as the Pines twins were insisting on sticking around…

"Hey!" he shouted, flying towards them. "You in the hat! Got any more of those petals?"

"Um…" Dipper stepped back, his gaze bouncing uncertainly between Danny and the meat monster. "I don't think – "

"Yes he does!" Mabel cried, snatching the backpack from Dipper's shoulder and ignoring his splutters of protest. Mabel pulled out the bag – Danny had to double back in the air to avoid the sensation – and rolled her eyes at Dipper. "It's Phantom, Dipper, he's fine. Everyone at school says so."

"Yeah, I've heard the name, but – " It was useless. Mabel had already sprinted away, leaving a trail of blood blossom petals in her wake.

Danny drifted higher still, grinning as the meat monster let out another furious roar. He chanced a glance back at Dipper, who was staring at him, studying him as intently as he did his human form, if not more. With a frown, he turned away. The less opportunity Dipper had to stare at his face, the better. "You can help too," he called, loudly enough to let the other boy hear his voice without him turning around. "I know you've got more stupid anti-ghost crap in that thing. Or don't help, whatever." And he dove back into the fray.

He was back into his rhythm right away, shooting his ectoblasts, dodging or blocking any attack the meat monster sent his way. It seemed to be focusing entirely on Danny, which gave Mabel plenty of opportunity to spread the flowers around. The monster let out its rumbling cries of pain every time it moved over a blossom, and it quickly switched to the strategy of just staying still.

This was good, this was better. The thing seemed nearly weakened enough to bring the thermos out. Just a little more…

The monster suddenly lurched again, moving right into the path of the blood blossoms. Danny blinked in surprise and peered down to see what had brought it on. It didn't take him long to find the reason. Dipper, it appeared, had rejoined the melee, shoving at the monster with his amulet from earlier held in front of him, steering it into the blossoms.

Danny smiled. That ought to do the trick.

With a final strangled roar, the monster's shape began to collapse, the meat seeming to cave in on itself. The Lunch Lady's green ethereal form emerged from the pile of meat, and Danny was at ready. He snatched the thermos from where it was slung across his, opened it, and pointed it toward the ghost. Her strangled shout of indignation was silenced as she was sucked into the Thermos and Danny slammed the cap on, shutting her tightly inside.

He took the moment to catch his breath (figuratively, of course). This was a part he liked, the sudden calm after the ghost fight that told Danny his job was done. Once he'd soaked in the silence for several seconds, he turned back to face the twins. Mabel had a bright, victorious smile stretched across her face, while Dipper's still seemed to be all business as he scanned the fallen meat.

"Er… thanks," he said, and with that, he went invisible and flew away and out the door.

He didn't turn visible again until he'd found Sam and Tucker in the milling crowd outside the mall and sidled up behind them and returned to his human form. He tapped Tucker on the shoulder, and he jumped, getting Sam's attention as well.

"How'd it go in there?" Sam asked.

"Not bad," Danny replied. "Very little structural damage, but a lot of wasted meat."

Luckily Tucker blocked Sam before she could make any of her usual remarks about meat. "What happened with Dipper and Mabel? We never saw them come out."

"Yeah, about that. Turns out – "

"Hey! Hey, Danny! Danny's friends!" The three of them turned to see Mabel and Dipper approaching them from the direction of one of the nearby entrances. Mabel was practically skipping by the time they reached the group. Only now when they were so close up did Danny notice their unkempt states, mostly due to the meat juices stained all over their clothes.

Sam wrinkled her nose, but elected not to comment on their appearance or smell, instead just saying, "So I guess you two got, um, involved? In the fight?"

"You bet!" Mabel answered. "Man, it's been a while since we fought a ghost. Felt good. Guess lugging all that anti-ghost stuff around with you actually did pay off, huh Dipper? Sorry I ever doubted you."

"You've fought ghosts before?" Tucker asked, his brows shooting halfway up his forehead.

"Some," Dipper said.

"Oh, we've faced all kinds of stuff," Mabel added with a little dismissive wave of her hand. "Ghosts are always a doozy, though. I mean, Dipper's got more experience with them than I do, he's the one who does most of it. Except this time that Phantom guy was there. Kinda stole Dipper's thunder." Dipper rolled his eyes. "You guys stayed out here the whole time?" Mabel continued. "You missed quite a show."

"We'll try and catch the next one," Sam said.

"So, uh, ghost-fighting, huh?" Danny said, perhaps just a little too loudly. "I guess that's what you've been keeping in that backpack of yours then? Ghost weapons of some sort?"

"Hm?" Dipper turned to Danny.

"I mean, I've noticed you've got it with you all the time…"

"Oh! Right! Yeah, that's – that's it. The ghost weapons." He shrugged and broke eye contact with Danny. "You know, didn't want someone, like, reporting them to the principal or something, that's all."

Danny kept a smile on his face as best he could. It seemed that he and Dipper had something else in common: they were both crappy liars.

"So!" Mabel piped up. "Are we still going to the Nasty Burger or what?"

"At the moment, you kinda smell like nasty burgers yourself," Tucker commented. Danny and Sam both shot him a look. Leave it to Tucker to throw tact out the window.

"He's right," Dipper said, taking Mabel by the elbow. "I think I'd rather just go home and take a shower right now. I can give Stan a call, have him come pick us up."

Mabel pouted, but her shoulders slumped in compliance. "Aw, fine. Tomorrow, then. Could you take us there tomorrow, Danny?"

"Right," Danny said. "Sure. Nasty Burger."

"Come on." Dipper gave Mabel a little tug. "We'll call Stan and go out to the front parking lot to wait. See you later, Danny. Sam. Tucker." He gave each of them a nod in turn, and Mabel waved goodbye as they departed.

It wasn't until the twins had gone around the corner of the building that the trio resumed their earlier conversation. "So," Tucker said. "They fight ghosts. Probably should have guessed, considering what their uncle does for a living."

"Apparently," Danny answered with a nod. "And honestly, they're not bad at it. They didn't run screaming from the ghost, in any case, and that's like half the skill you need anyhow."

"And they didn't see you transform or anything, right?" Sam asked. "Nothing that would tip them off?"

"Nope," Danny said. He thought back to the way Dipper had seemed to be studying his face during the brief lull in the fight, but elected not to bring it up. Maybe that was the way Dipper looked at everything. He did always seem to be on the alert.

Sam let out a breath. "Still, I guess this means we've got two more ghost hunters here in Amity Park."

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Danny said drily. "Ford is truly the gift that keeps on giving."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Tucker said, punching Danny lightly in the arm. "They don't seem to have a problem with Phantom, so you're in the clear there."

"Until their uncle convinces them otherwise, sure."

"Oh, who knows," Sam said. "Maybe it'll be the other way around, them convincing him to leave you alone."

"Because the best-case scenario is always the one the universe chooses to send us?" Tucked asked, raising a brow.

"Because Danny's due for a lucky break," Sam said, shrugging. "For now, let's not dwell on anything. Wanna just come over to my house, pop in a movie, work on our homework and order a pizza?"

"I would love to do three of those four things," Danny answered. Right now he was worn out from the fight and sick of thinking about that stupid scientist. Tonight, it could just be pizza-and-movie night. He could save any new concerns about the Pines family until tomorrow.


	13. Chapter 13

Two different 3k-word chapters, published less than a week apart? Am I _crazy?_ Yes. The answer is yes. Hey, B-T-Dubs, are any of you Gravity Falls writers looking for a challenge? Well, if you go into that Forum tab up there at the top of your screen, and search in the Gravity Falls forums, I've got a challenge up there for you. 100 prompts for Gravity Falls fanfic stories. One hundred. Take a look if you're in need of inspiration. And, hey, thanks for reading!

* * *

"Look, I'm not saying you _have_ to let me take a bathroom break. I mean, you're the one in charge here, I've got no sway in this. I'm just pointing out that the _doctor_ said – "

"Ugh!" Coach Tetslaff threw her hands in the air in frustration. "You know what? Fine! Fine, take the stupid bathroom break. The fight's not worth it." She turned back to keep her eye on the class, and Danny heard her mutter something about "coddling glorified human first-aid kits" as she did.

"Thanks, Coach Tetslaff!" he said cheerily, the smile on his face half for show, half genuine. Maybe this was the lucky break Sam had predicted for him yesterday. The coach had the class working on the track part of track and field, assigning everyone to different running events, and Dipper had just finished up an eight hundred-meter dash – an event that clearly was not a good fit for him. The kid was exhausted, and had gone around the side of the building for a water break.

Which meant that Dipper was distracted, worn out, and currently out of view of Danny. After Dipper's answer to his query yesterday, Danny didn't believe for one second that ghost weapons were all he was hiding in that backpack, and now was as good an opportunity as any to find some answers.

Tetslaff's permission was all he had needed, and then he was off, darting to the boys' locker room and skidding to a halt in front of Dipper's locker.

He took a deep breath and turned his arm intangible, then slowly reached through the locker door, taking care to simply grab the strap and not let his hand go into any of the pockets, and dropped the backpack on the bench in front of him.

There it was. His bag full of answers. About damn time.

He moved to grab the zipper of largest pocket, and yanked his hand back when he got what felt like a static shock. It was a minor one, sure, but it seemed even in his human form, this stuff was enforcing a no-touch rule for him. Just to test it, he tapped lightly on the other zippers around the backpack. None of them had any effect; it seemed the biggest pocket was the only one repelling him. Which, of course, meant that it was the one to search.

Chewing pensively on his bottom lip, he reached his intangible arm back into Dipper's locker and pulled out his shirt. He wrapped it around his hand and tested the zipper again. Bingo. It seemed his human form was fine with these things as long he didn't touch anything directly.

He unzipped the pocket and peered into the bag. There sat the tools that he had seen used yesterday, the pipe, the salt pistol, the amulet, the bag of blood blossoms. The only thing missing was the bottle that had held the holy water.

There were other items, too, ones Danny didn't recognize: a jar filled with what looked to be shimmering blue fish scales, several unlit stick candles, a silver mirror, a box of chalk, and scraps of paper covered in unrecognizable symbols littered across the bottom of the bag.

Danny frowned as he picked through the items with his shirt-wrapped hand. Sure, these things were weird, but none were any weirder than anything Dipper had used yesterday, and none of this was worth hiding particularly from him. He dug through pocket, keeping his eyes peeled for something he may have missed. As far as he could tell, there was nothing.

He pulled his hand out of the bag, zipped it back up, and unwrapped the shirt from his hand, which he then ran, frustrated, through his hair. Nothing in that pocket was anything he'd expect Dipper to consider some big secret. So what the hell was the deal?

Well, as long as he was here, he might as well be thorough. He checked the side pockets of the backpack, finding a phone in one, and a pack of gum and old eraser in the other. The middle pocket next, which seemed to just be school stuff. Two textbooks, one for American History and one for Algebra II, a spiral-bound notebook, his pencil case, a folder, another notebook, this one hardbound…

And looking awfully full for the first week of school.

Danny grabbed the notebook and pulled it from the bag. The edges of the pages were well worn, a number of their corners dog-eared and loose leaves of paper and post-it notes sticking out between the pages. It was around three-quarters of the way filled, Danny noticed as he ran his thumb on the edges of the page.

It wasn't his to look at, he knew. He didn't know what the notebook was for. It could have been something that Dipper had just carried over from the last school year, or perhaps it was his personal diary or novel-in-progress, both for his own eyes only. It would be wrong to read it. Because that would be a huge invasion of Dipper's privacy.

Then again, just _skimming_ it didn't really count, right? Not reading it, just getting a quick idea of what it was, to put his mind at ease.

He set his thumb at the edge of the first page, and flicked through it rapidly, catching glimpses of the contents – paragraphs upon paragraphs of writing, all in the same scrawling penmanship, interspersed with illustrations, diagrams, post-it notes, photographs, newspaper clippings. He really did do his best not to actually read it, just skim, but of course he couldn't help but absorb a couple of phrases or images here and there, as one does.

 _\- couldn't find anything about it in Ford's personal library, but the public library said they might have records of –_

 _\- seem to react to reflected sunlight as much as they do direct. I found a good clearing to set up a snare, so hopefully –_

A photograph of a reptilian arm with what looked to be a fork of lightning shooting between two of the fingers, the whole image slightly out of focus.

 _\- The Agropelter, anthrocephalus craniofractens: indigenous across the northern United States from Maine to Oregon, this primate-type creature is –_

A post-it note reading: _Ask Ford about total entropy._

A sketch of what appeared to be a bird claw, if birds had about four extra talons on each foot.

 _\- tests to see if any of them had reaction's similar to Danny's, and although there didn't –_

Danny paused, flicked back a page. Yes, he was right: he'd seen his name in the notebook. If that didn't justify actually reading, really reading, what was in this notebook, then he didn't know what would. He wasn't sure how long a bathroom break his detri-something hyper-whatever would justify; hopefully a long one, he figured, as he sank down onto the bench to read.

 _I won't rule out the possibility that prolonged exposure to the ghost-related work in the basement laboratory may have caused some sensitivity to one or some of the traditional anti-ghost weaponry in my backpack. Of course, it also stood to reason that the rest of the Fenton family would then have similar reactions. I went ahead and placed the paper talismans startegically, tried to make subtle contact between them and my equipment, basically ran tests to see if any of them had reaction's similar to Danny's, and although there didn't seem to be any so far, I haven't yet tested everything, and I don't know yet which one seemed to have hurt Danny. I'll have to pick it up next time I'm in the Fentons' home._

If there had ever been any doubt as to whether Dipper had noticed Danny's flinching away from Dipper's backpack on the first day of school, it was now gone. With hesitant, nervous fingers Danny flipped back a few pages in the notebook, picking out passages to read, to see what else Dipper had picked up on.

 _So far online I've barely been able to find any information at all on this Amity Park, let alone anything related to ghosts. Considering how prevalent they're supposed to be, according to Ford, that's shocking. I only managed to find a bit on it on a couple of message boards, and I don't really trust the reliability of the websites they were posted on. I wonder if maybe the Never Mind All That act had a precedent before it, if perhaps they're keeping this under wraps. Mabel says it's probably a big government cover-up. It wouldn't surprise me._

A printout of the aforementioned message boards and a copy of the town map were scotch-taped on the next page, with notes scribbled onto the map of places to look into. The kid had done his homework, it seemed, even if it hadn't yielded much by way of results.

 _Ford is going to start meeting with those other scientists starting tomorrow. He said if they gave us permission, Mabel and I could have a quick tour of the lab, but that's it; no helping with the ghost research until he's absolutely sure there's no way we can get hurt. His new 'safety rules' are driving me crazy. Grunkle Stan said that it's a guilt thing, Ford trying to over-correct after Weirdmageddon last summer, which is dumb because we're_ _pretty much_ _over that. Hopefully he'll get himself sorted out soon, but in the meantime, it's just making things that much more difficult for me and Mabel._

Danny raised his brow, sounding out that 'Weirdmageddon' word in his head and trying to figure out if it was familiar to him at all. He drew a blank. Probably not important, he figured. He flipped back ahead a couple of pages, went back to looking for mentions of himself and reading the accompanying passages.

 _First the issue with the backpack, now he vanishes when he claims he was just going to the bathroom. Mabel says it's nothing and that I'm just being paranoid, but considering her track record judging guys who she finds cute, I think that's actually even more reason to keep an eye on him._

 _Ford said he'd only met Danny briefly so far, and that he hadn't really discussed him much with Jack and Maddie. He did say that the Fentons were a little concerned about Danny and his 'behavior' since starting high school, but he didn't give me any more detail than that. He said that's probably just Danny's business anyhow. I'll have to look into that._

 _I think Danny is starting to get suspicious about me. He was being really odd before gym class, lingering in the locker room in front of my locker, and I'm pretty sure he kept looking over at me during class itself. He also broke his foot almost immediately after I hurt my knee, which normally might just be a coincidence, but considering everything else, I doubt that's all it is._

 _A lot of people in class seem to be pretty familiar with ghosts around here, and from what I've heard, some of the ghosts and their behavior or abilities seems really strange. I asked Ford about it, and he said that he'd let us know if there was anything we needed to worry about, and for now, we should just stay out of the fray if any sort of ghost fight comes up, that there are a lot of professionals in town who specialize in ghosts and will take care of it. I don't know who Ford thinks he's kidding. Hopefully I can find some information about these supposed specialists._

 _Danny's foot was healed today. I saw him in the cafeteria before school, and he was walking just fine. No cast, no bandage, not even a hint of a limp. I confronted him about it and he made up some excuse and left. I don't know what to think of him. I can't get many answers about him either. Hardly anyone I've asked at school knows who he is, and those who do don't seem to think much of him._

Scattered throughout Dipper's journal entries were more printouts, mainly what seemed to be archived newspaper articles, all detailing the town's ghost problems. A few of them, naturally, featured Phantom. Bits and pieces of the articles and photographs were highlighted or circled, and Danny felt his stomach churn when, after a long description of the encounter with the Lunch Lady ( _Holy water had no effect on the ghosts, and the effect from the salt pellets seemed minimal_ , Dipper had scribbled in the margins. _I'll see if I can find Ford's notes on ghost weapons and look into this_.), several pages were filled to the edges in nothing but Phantom articles and notes squeezed in between them of what information he could get about the ghost from the Casper High students.

If Danny thought he was worried by that, however, it was nothing compared to how he felt when he turned the page again and saw the pictures taped there.

The first was a photograph of Phantom, one that Danny remembered had won a photo contest sponsored by the newspaper several monthsback for being one of the clearest images anyone had gotten of the ghost. Beside it was a picture of Danny Fenton, in his human form. It was his yearbook photo from last school year, printed on cardstock paper, and Danny neither knew nor cared where Dipper had gotten it. He was much too concerned about the writing all over the photos – measurements were marked all over the two faces, and in the empty space left on the page Dipper had written out equations, ratios.

The notebook was shaking in Danny's hands as he tried to read the accompanying written entries, but the words seemed to be swimming in his vision, refusing to let him focus on them enough to read them properly, and they seemed to just be coming in as disconnected phrases and sentences. Or, maybe that's actually how they were written on the page?

 _I haven't noticed any signs of possession on Danny, and I've gotten a good look at his eyes._

 _Theory: ghost with powerful enough shapeshifting abilities to appear human? But then why wasn't it repelled by my amulet on the first day of school the way it was during that fight at the mall?_

 _He definitely breathes, and eats. Ghosts shouldn't have to do that._

 _Ford said he'd ask the Fentons for me about Danny's 'behavior problems'. I don't think he actually will._

 _Where was Danny when he wasn't in the bathroom?_

 _How did he heal so fast?_ _Why did he need to heal at all? He shouldn't have gotten an injury like that if he was a ghost, right?_

And, in bold blocky letters at the bottom of the page with the photographs, _SAME PERSON? HOW?_

At least Danny finally had a real answer. This was why Dipper had been keeping his backpack so close to the chest. He wasn't hiding the weapons. He was hiding his research. Research about Danny.

The bell rang, startling Danny into jumping and letting the notebook fall closed in his hand. He felt – well, he wasn't quite sure what he felt. Some odd combination of panicky and numb. Like there were butterflies in his stomach, but they were dead.

Somewhere in his mind he registered the sound of footsteps, the class moving in from outside and toward the locker room. One set up footsteps was louder and faster than the others, someone running, and as soon as Danny thought it, there was Dipper Pines, standing in the doorway, panting slightly, obviously having rushed to the locker room as fast as he could once the bell dismissed the classroom, and just as obviously having arrived too late.

Danny met Dipper's wide eyes, the notebook still in his hand, the open backpack still beside him on the bench. Dipper's eyes darted from Danny's face to the notebook, and his mouth moved silently a couple of times, before he finally spoke his voice coming out in sort of a squeak. "Danny. Did – did you – "

Numb seemed to override panicky at that moment, and Danny stood up, dropping the notebook back into the backpack as Dipper silently watched. He couldn't deal with this right now, he decided. He had just a few minutes of passing period, and that wasn't even enough time for everything he'd read in the notebook to sink in, let alone for him to properly confront Dipper about it.

"Gotta be careful about these gym lockers," Danny said, surprised by the flatness of his own voice. "They're not all that sturdy, see. Would make it real easy for somone to go snooping."

"Look, I – "

Before Dipper could get another word in, he was shoved aside as the rest of his classmates began pouring into the locker room. Danny turned his back on Dipper, turned back to his own locker. He changed out of his gym clothes in record time, not even pausing to acknowledge Tucker when the latter made it to his own locker and asked Danny what was up, why had he taken so long.

He could see Dipper on the edge of his vision, trying to meet his gaze, as Danny finished changing, slung his own backpack over his shoulder, and stalked out of the locker room, taking care not to even glance toward the other boy as he left.


	14. Chapter 14

Danny was pretty sure that Dipper was avoiding him throughout the rest of the day, but he couldn't be certain. After all, their paths didn't cross often, and the only class they had together was gym. He did recall, though, that Mabel had mentioned that she and Danny had the same lunch break today, and he looked for her in the cafeteria and was unable to find her. He would have expect her to wave to him like she had at breakfast yesterday.

It wasn't as though he had been planning to sit with her or anything, of course. He plunked his tray down across from Sam and Tucker at their usual table, and the two of them looked at him expectantly.

"So," Tucker said the moment Danny's tray touched the surface of the table. "You gonna tell me what was going on with you at the end of gym class?"

"He knows," Danny answered. No hesitation, no emotion in his voice. Just a simple statement of fact.

Sam and Tucker sat stunned for a moment, staring at him, probably waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't, Sam asked, "Who knows?"

"Who do you think?"

"And how did you find – "

"Read his journal. Turns out that's what he was hiding, not the weapons. Didn't want me to know that he's a crazy creepy stalker."

Tucker let out a slow breath. "So… he knows everything? He knows you're a half-ghost?"

Danny shook his head. "Not quite. But he knows enough. Noticed all those little details, figured out there was a connection between me and Phantom. He's got all the puzzle pieces, now it's just a matter of time before he puts them together in the right order."

A tense silence took over the table for a moment, eventually broken by Sam drumming her fingers against the table, deep in thought. "Okay," she said. "Okay, so – so this is bad."

"Oh, is it?" Danny said. "Thanks for pointing that out, I wouldn't have even noticed on my own."

Sam didn't react to the sarcasm, not even giving him the courtesy of an eye roll. Instead she continued as if Danny hadn't said anything. "But as for _how_ bad… well, that probably depends on whether Dipper's been sharing."

"I don't think he's told anyone at school," Tucker said. "I mean, if there were a rumor going around about Danny being, what, attached to Phantom or something, we probably would have heard it, right?"

"It wasn't our classmates I was thinking of. Right now the important question is: does _Stanford_ know?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Danny answered. "He hasn't been acting weird toward me or anything. Then again, not like I know anything about his poker face. He could just be biding his time until he's figured it out for sure."

"Maybe Dipper's doing the same thing," Tucker said. "Waiting until he has Danny figured out before he goes to the presses."

"Well," Danny said, picking up his chicken patty sandwich and starting to unwrap it, "Guess I won't know for sure until I find Dipper and ask him, huh?"

Sam frowned at him. "Danny, I know you're upset, but don't do anything rash, okay?"

Danny paused, his sandwich poised at the ready to take a bite but forgotten now as he stared at Sam, affronted. "What's that supposed to mean? What did you think I was going to do?"

"Nothing, it's just – "

"I mean, what, did you think I was gonna try and beat him up or something? Start hurling ectoblasts at the kid until he tells me what he knows? That's never exactly been my style."

"Danny, stop, I didn't mean anything by it," Sam snapped. "It's just, we've never really dealt with this before, someone we know next to nothing about showing up and uncovering all of the – you know. Your stuff. I only want to make sure you'll keep a cool head."

Danny sighed and held up his right hand. "I solemnly swear. All I plan to do is talk, see if he's done anything with his info. And if he hasn't, make sure he doesn't start making any plans to."

"And if you're too late?" Tucker asked. "If he's already sicced his uncle on you?"

" _Then_ I'll do something rash."

Danny didn't have much on his mind the rest of the day besides Dipper and his goddamned notebook. And he could never keep his attention focused during class on a good day. The minutes seemed to be dragging by as if meandering through a dense sludge, and by the time the final bell rang, Danny felt like he had sat through a month's worth of classes. A part of him wondered if Clockwork was somehow interfering, trying to delay the moment when Danny could confront Dipper about that research, but he couldn't imagine what motivation the ghost could possibly have for doing such a thing.

The Pines twins didn't join him and Jazz in the parking lot after school that day, which only meant another frustration for Danny, since now he'd have to actually track them down. He bounced his leg anxiously against the passenger side door all the way home, and he noticed Jazz glancing at it a couple of times along the way, but she didn't say anything. It must have been obvious how tense Danny was.

The car had barely stopped in the driveway before Danny had thrown his door open and darted into the house, making a beeline for the lab. Just as expected, there were his parents and Stanford. Today they seemed to be focusing more on lab reports than actual experimentation, since the lab tables were strewn with papers and none of them were wearing goggles or gloves.

Maddie was the first to notice Danny, and she cast him a smile and a wave. "How was school, Danny?" she asked.

"Fine," Danny answered. "Hi, Ford."

Ford looked up from a paper, eyes quizzical, apparently surprised at having been addressed specifically, but he replied with a nod, "Afternoon, Danny."

"Here researching again? Find anything interesting?"

"Well, this whole field is interesting. But we haven't made any dramatic breakthroughs while you were at school, if that's what you're asking."

"Nothing, huh? You sure?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I would know if I've made some grand discovery."

"Has Dipper been helping you with your research at all? He got any theories you're testing?"

"Dipper and Mabel are busy with their own schoolwork." His brow wrinkled. "Why do you ask?"

Danny scanned Ford's face and stance. Granted, he wasn't exactly an expert at detecting when a person was hiding something, but Ford's confusion at his question sure _seemed_ to be genuine. And Danny was pretty sure that Ford would know what he was getting at if Dipper had let him in on his findings. His leaden stomach unclenched a bit in relief, but not all the way – he still wasn't in the clear. "No reason," he answered with a shrug. "Just curious. Hey, speaking of Dipper, his he going to be here at all today?"

Ford shook his head. "No, I think he and Mabel were just planning on staying home this evening."

"Are you positive? 'Cause, I kinda need to see Dipper."

"Yes, I'm positive. Is there something urgent you needed him for?"

"Well, uh, sort of. See, I've got… I've got a project coming up in, um, in World History. On, uh, Sumerians or something. And Dipper mentioned that he'd done a – a paper on them, last year. He was gonna let me have a look."

"I could give you his phone number, if you'd like. You two could talk over it that way."

"Actually, I'd _really_ rather do it in person."

"When's your project due, Danny?" Maddie asked.

"Um, next week?"

"Well then, you could ask Dipper to come over tomorrow. Or this weekend. In the meantime, I'm sure Jazz would be happy to help you with your research."

Danny had to bite his tongue to keep himself from grinding his teeth in frustration. "I'm just trying to get an early jump on it. And I really would like Dipper's help. He, ah, he seems like he's pretty good at this – this stuff."

Ford chuckled. "Well, he'll be flattered to hear that. Tell you what, I could give my brother a call, see if he wouldn't mind driving Dipper over here if he has time."

"Oh, I'd hate to put him out like that," Maddie said, frowning.

"Okay, how about I go to your place?" Danny suggested.

"Do you drive?" Ford asked. "It's a ways away, wouldn't want you walking."

"Jazz can drive me."

"Jazz can what now?" Jazz called from the kitchen.

Danny turned and yelled over his shoulder, "Jazz, can you drive me over to Ford's house?"

There was a pause, followed by a sigh and Jazz answering, "Sure, fine. When?"

"Right now." He turned back to Ford. "If that's all right?"

Ford nodded. "Yes, it's fine. I'll write down the address for you."

Not two minutes later Danny and Jazz were back in her car, buckled in for the ride. Jazz put the address into her phone for the route and turned the keys in the ignition. The engine and air conditioning both sputtered to life, but Jazz didn't make any move to take the wheel. Instead, she turned to stare expectantly at Danny, letting the car idle in the driveway.

"Um," Danny said, "The gas pedal's the one on the right."

"Are you planning on telling me why you suddenly need to go to Ford's house?"

"It's nothing, I just need to talk to Dipper."

"It's not nothing. I can understand being suspicious about Ford, given his profession and all, but why Dipper? Did something happen?"

"… Sort of."

"Was it the same thing that was bothering you yesterday morning?"

"No, that was something else."

Jazz folded her arms and sat back in her chair. "I'm listening."

Danny sighed and sank down into his own chair. Well, the sooner he broke the news to Jazz, the sooner she'd start driving. "I got a glimpse at Dipper's notes. Yeah, apparently he's been keeping a close eye on me ever since he showed up in town. And he's figured it out, Jazz. Not all the way, not yet, but he knows about my connection to Phantom and he's noticed everything he needs to put it all together. It's probably only a matter of time. And you just know that when he does, first thing he'll do is blab to Ford. Do you know what Ford's doing down in that lab with our parents? He's working on a way to kill ghosts. Not capture them, not study them, kill them. So basically, I've got to convince Dipper to keep his mouth shut, or else Ford will find a prime candidate for testing whatever it is he came up with. So, there you go. You gonna drive me now?"

Jazz's eyes were wide, and Danny knew she probably was ready to burst with questions, wanting to know every single tiny detail of anything he'd said and anything he'd left out. Fortunately, though, Jazz had been getting better as of late at knowing when to save the drilling for later, and that was the best option here. She gave him a small nod and turned toward the front, taking the steering wheel in one hand and shifting into reverse with the other.

Danny played navigator on the ride over, reading the directions aloud from Jazz's phone. It turned out the address was just in the next neighborhood over, one of the many nearly-identical houses on a street that exclusively hosted rental homes. Half of the yards had 'For Lease' signs sticking up out of the grass by the curb. The house with the number matching the address Ford had given them had just a few signs of being lived in – a mud-spattered sedan in the driveway, a line of pastel-colored pinwheels poking out of the ground that lined the front walk (Mabel's doing, Danny suspected), and a sagging mustard-yellow sofa on the porch, patched in multiple spots with silver duct tape.

As they pulled onto the curb, Danny gripped the handle of his door, ready to leap out when Jazz dropped him off, but she surprised him by shifting into park and turning the keys to kill the engine. "What are you doing?"

Jazz sent Danny a bewildered look before reaching into the backseat to grab her purse. "Did you expect me to leave the engine running the whole time we were in there?"

"I expected you to leave."

"Well, nothing doing. You're not exactly great at handling confrontation that doesn't involve ectoplasm being shot everywhere. You could use a moderator."

"Jazz – "

"Don't argue." She slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and pushed her door open. "Besides, I'm going to want to be in the loop about all this; this way you won't have to waste time telling me what happened later."

Danny sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Fine. Fine. But don't try taking over the conversation or, like, redirecting me or any of that psychologist crap."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jazz replied, rolling her eyes and stepping out of the car.

There didn't seem to be any point in objecting further, so Danny relented and exited the car as well, then marched toward the house, Jazz trailing behind him. He rapped sharply on the door, and almost immediately after his fist hit the door, there was a low scratching at the other side. The door was flanked by narrow two frosted-glass windows, and through one of them Danny could see a shape that looked to be a remarkably fat dog. Which would explain the scratching. He waited at the door for a bit, ignoring the scratching and snuffling of the dog, and, just when he was ready to try knocking again, the knob turned and the door opened with a loud squeak.

"Yeah?" the man who opened the door said gruffly by way of greeting.

For a moment, Danny stood frozen in front of the open doorway, fist still clenched in preparation of knocking. The sight before him was unexpected, to say the least. For one thing, the creature that he had assumed was an obese dog turned out to be a pig – a big, pink, round-bellied pig who took the opportunity to press its nose against Danny's shoe and begin sniffing and snorting. For another, the man who opened the door was strikingly familiar. He didn't look as dignified as usual, in slippers, boxer shorts, a white undershirt, and – of all things – a tasseled fez on his head, but it had to be –

" _Ford?_ "

The man – Ford? Not Ford? Ford's clone? – laughed, a throaty, half-cough noise that didn't sound like Ford at all. "Close, kid, but no cigar," he said. "You're thinkin' of my brother. He's out workin' right now. Try again later."

His brother. Oh, so this would be Stanley. Ford hadn't said anything about him and his brother being twins, but from looking at Stanley now, it was either that, or the most uncanny non-twin sibling resemblance Danny had ever seen.

"Uh, no, I actually, um – " Somehow he had lost his words after seeing double like that, and the fact that the pig had begun chewing on his shoelaces wasn't helping him refocus.

"We're actually looking for Dipper and Mabel," Jazz said from over his shoulder. Huh. Apparently it was good to have her along after all, if Danny was going to be getting tongue-tied. "I'm Jazz Fenton, this is Danny. Our parents are working with your brother. You're Stanley, right?"

"Bingo," Stanley said. "Yeah, Ford did mention the Fentons had kids. Hey, kids!" he shouted, turning toward a nearby staircase that led up to landing housing three doors, all closed tight. "You got company!"

One of the doors at the top of the stairs opened a crack, just wide enough for Danny to get a glimpse of Dipper's face peering through it before the boy's eyes went wide and the door swung shut again. A moment passed, and the door reopened, but this time it was Mabel who emerged and came bounding down the stairs. "Danny! Jazz!" she said, her voice a note higher-pitched than usual. "Didn't expect you two here!"

"Dip comin' down?" Stanley asked.

"Oh, no, he's – he's just finishing some homework, really in the zone right now."

Well, Dipper may not have shared his findings with Ford, but it seemed pretty clear that he had done so with Mabel. Her new vocal tone and her fidgeting stance made it plain to see that she knew exactly why Danny had come over here today.

But, for Stanley's benefit, he kept his composure even. "That's actually what I came over here for. Needed some homework help from him. Jazz drove."

"Well, uh, are you sure no one else can help you? I'm kinda claiming him as my study partner for the night."

"I won't take long," Danny said. "I could just go upstairs now, if that's all right?"

Mabel bit her lip apprehensively. Stanley, seeming to notice the tension, glanced back and forth between Mabel and Danny. "Somethin' the matter?" he asked. He turned to narrow his eyes at Danny. "You ain't been doin' somethin' to scare my nephew, have you?"

"No, no, it's fine, Grunkle Stan," Mabel cut in. (Danny decided not to comment on the odd honorific; at this point, little oddities seemed perfectly par for the course in the Pines family.) "I can – I can take them upstairs. You were going to go get dinner started, right?"

"Yeah, I was," Stan grunted. "Guess I can't count on you to help with that now, right? Ah, well." He turned to leave, moving past the staircase toward what was presumably the kitchen. "Call me if you need anythin', got it?"

"Sure thing, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel called with a quick wave. She turned back to Danny and Jazz. "We, um, we usually have dinner kinda early here, see. It's 'cause Stan and Ford are old. Apparently that's a thing, you know, old people, gotta have their early bird dinner." She cleared her throat. "Uh, I see you've met Waddles." She nodded toward the pig. "He's a real sweetie. Like the world's heaviest stuffed animal, Waddles is."

"Mabel," Danny interrupted. "You were gonna take us upstairs."

"Oh. Right. I was." She glanced uncertainly toward Jazz for help, and when she received one, she continued, "Although, I mean, we could hang out downstairs for a bit, or we could – "

"I'm really gonna need that _homework help_ at some point. Might as well get it over with now, right?"

Mabel's eyes were darting rapidly around, to Danny, to Jazz, toward the kitchen, as if she were looking for an escape route, but she still seemed to see the logic in Danny's words. "You're coming with?" she asked Jazz, who nodded. Mabel sighed. "All right. Well." She turned around, starting up the stairs and motioning for Danny and Jazz to follow. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

I know, I know, it's been a long gap between chapters. Fortunately, the next wait will be much shorter, since I already have half of Chapter 15 written - I had originally been writing it as part of this chapter before I decided to split the chapter in two. Just to mess with you guys. However, I hope the Waddles cameo makes up for it.


	15. Chapter 15

Remember when I said that the wait for this chapter would be shorter? Well, I am a liar. A filthy, disgusting, pestilential liar, who should be embarrassed to tell those kinds of lies where people can hear my crazy nonsense.

* * *

If Danny had to take a guess at what Dipper Pines' room would look like based solely on what he knew about him, what he came up with would have been almost one-hundred-percent correct. Dipper's room was small, with a sloping ceiling and a single window that left the space feeling awfully cramped. The actual décor of the room was sparse, with the colors of the furniture and bedspread drab beiges and blues, but that wasn't to say the room itself was anywhere near empty. A bookshelf sat against the wall across from the door, the books stacked haphazardly in an attempt to fit them all in, and some lying in a pile on top, as if Dipper had simply given up on said attempt. His bed, unmade, took up the rest of that wall, and opposite it was wooden desk that had acquired more clutter in the week that he'd lived in this room than Danny's own bedroom desk did in months. A corkboard hung on the wall over his bed, dotted with a few newspaper clippings and pictures that looked like the sort of fare Danny had seen in his notebook, but mixed with academic ribbons, some casual photographs, and a print-out of the school's lunch calendar. The rest of the wall was covered almost floor-to-ceiling, decked in posters featuring Ducktective, Ghost Harassers, and Babba; a constellation chart; a period table; and maps of the world, Illinois, Amity Park, and – amusingly – "Sasquatch Sightings of the American Midwest."

The man of the hour himself was seated near the closet door, on top of a small stack of cardboard boxes that most likely contained personal affects that had yet to be unpacked since moving in. His shoulders were hunched, chin tucked in, knuckles gripping the edge of the top box and his legs pressed close. As if actually hiding wasn't an option so he was settling for making himself feel small instead.

Mabel led Danny and Jazz into the room without a word, shutting the door behind her and seating herself cautiously onto the edge of Dipper's bed, her eyes darting to her brother before she spared a glance over toward the desk, where Danny spotted the incriminating notebook lying on top of a stack of school books. Just seeing it left his stomach roiling, some of the anger he'd felt upon first reading it bubbling back up.

Jazz must have noticed him tense, because she put a hand on his shoulder before addressing Dipper. "Well. You probably know that my brother has some things he wants to talk to you about."

Dipper nodded silently and, like his sister, let his eyes wander over to the notebook on the desk. "I, uh… I figured."

Jazz nudged Danny's elbow, a prompt for him to get started, and he took a deep breath, unsure how to begin. He had planned out this whole conversation in his head, but that had been before Jazz had insisted on tagging along and observing, and considering the sort of language his rehearsal conversation had contained, he now had to scrap quite a bit of it under her faux-parental eye. So, instead of going straight into a rant like he'd wanted, he cut right to the chase: "Who else knows?"

Dipper blinked at him. Probably hadn't thought that would be Danny's opening line. "Who else knows… about…"

"Who else knows about your – your – your little spy log?" Danny snapped. "Who else knows about all that snooping you've been doing, about all the – the _stuff_ with Phantom?"

"No one!" Dipper said, holding up his hands and rapidly shaking his head. "No one! Just me!" Danny scowled and gestured with his head toward Mabel. "Well, okay, _Mabel_ knows too," Dipper relented. "But that's it, I swear! And I mean – I mean – there's nothing _to_ know! Right? I didn't have any conclusions or anything, I was just trying to figure out – "

"You shouldn't have been trying to figure _anything_ out! I mean, God, you show up to a town and the moment one tiny little thing happens that seems odd, you start stalking people, trying to dig up everything they – "

"I wasn't stalking you!" Dipper interrupted.

Danny scoffed and stomped across the room to the desk, snatching up the notebook and flicking through the pages. "Hey, that's – !" Dipper began, but he was cut off by Danny reading aloud, " _I think Danny is starting to get suspicious about me. He was being really odd before gym class, lingering in the locker room in front of my locker, and I'm pretty sure he kept looking over at me during class itself_. Dear Diary, the Fenton guy is a teensy bit odd, so I'm gonna go ahead and start researching him online and taking notes on everything he does, because that's a reasonable, non-stalker-ish response."

"Danny," Jazz said warningly. Danny just rolled his eyes and closed the notebook in his hand.

Dipper, meanwhile, had stood up from his stack of boxes, the timid apprehension on his face replaced by a scowl. "It's _not stalking_. Besides, I was right, wasn't I? You do have something going on. You've got some sort of weird connection with Phantom."

"No, I don't."

"Oh, so when you came in here demanding to know who I've told about you and Phantom – "

"I was making sure you hadn't started going around spreading some stupid, baseless gossip about me and Phantom. I've got enough to deal with in reality without you throwing your weird fantasy in the mix."

Dipper crossed his arms. "It's not baseless. I _know_ there's something there, Danny. Something off. I saw you react to the ghost weapons in my backpack, I saw you miraculously heal your foot overnight, I saw you vanish out of the house, and if your school record from last year can be believed, it's a pretty regular thing for you."

"When did you see my – "

"And I saw Phantom. I analyzed photos, Danny, and you and Phantom could be twins. It's – it's all too much to just be a coincidence. Something's up, and you're not gonna convince me otherwise, so you may as well stop trying."

Danny inhaled slowly through his nose and set the notebook down on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his mouth to reply, but Jazz beat him to the punch. "You know what?" she said. "I think that we've gotten off to a bad start here. This really isn't a very productive way of working anything out."

Maybe she was trying to give the two boys a common enemy, Danny thought, figuring that the look of incredulous irritation Dipper was sending her was identical to his own. But Jazz was unfazed. "I mean it. I don't want to just sit here and let you two yell at each other until you've gone hoarse. So if you're done trying that, why don't we sit down and talk about what's going on like mature, rational adults. Well, not adults, but, um, adolescents."

"Want me to grab one of my stuffed animals?" Mabel piped up, raising her hand. "To use as a share bear?"

" _No_ ," Dipper and Danny both snapped at her, to which she shrugged and said, "Your loss."

"Look," Dipper said. "I don't have anything to say that I haven't said already. You – " he jabbed a finger toward Danny. " – have some kind of – some kind of link with Phantom. You could tell me what it is now and save me the time and trouble if you want. But if you don't, fine, I'll keep looking into it myself, don't care what you have to say about it."

"What's it matter to you anyway?" Danny said, voice coming out almost more like a growl than speech. "What if, for the sake of the argument, I was, what, linked to Phantom or whatever. Why should that make any difference to you? How is it your business?"

"It's a _ghost_. They're _always_ my business."

"Well that's just completely not true."

"It is. God, you should get that better than anyone. Your family studies ghosts, yeah? Well, so does mine. Not just ghosts, either. Zombies and goblins and demons and – and everything. And you don't get through all that without looking into it and finding answers, which is all I'm trying to do. And it's not stalking."

Danny brought up a hand to run through his hair. "I don't care. I don't care if this is your special hobby or if invading people's privacy is your anti-drug or whatever it is you're trying to say. You stay out of it this time, all right? There's nothing in that stupid notebook of yours worth looking into. Just leave the ghost-studying to actual ghost-studiers, would you?"

Mabel let out a small chuckle and leaned up against the headboard of Dipper's bed. "Man, he sounds like Ford, doesn't he, Dip?"

"Wait, what?" Danny said, whirling to face her. "Ford? Ford knows?"

The hint of a grin that had been beginning to form on her face dropped instantly. "Oh, um, no, I just meant – "

Danny didn't want to hear it, and he turned his furious glare to Dipper. "You said you only talked about this with Mabel! You told _Ford?!"_

"I didn't!" Dipper said, his eyes widening as he lifted his hands again in a gesture of innocence. "She was just saying – "

"Oh my god, oh my _god_ ," Danny groaned. He pulled Dipper's desk chair out to sink into it. "Do you have _any idea_ – ?!"

"Danny!" Jazz scolded. "They're trying to explain, let them talk."

"I don't want to hear their explanation!"

"That's not very constructive of you, Danny."

"Jazz, I will _bite you_."

"I didn't talk to Ford!" Dipper all but shouted, cutting into their squabbling. "I swear, I didn't say a thing to him. He doesn't know I've been looking into this. He – Ford doesn't even know I've been looking into ghosts at all. Honest."

Danny narrowed his eyes. "He doesn't even know you've been – how could he not? All that research in the notebook, you did all that without him noticing?"

"No. No, most of that is, um, old. From before we started staying with Ford and Stan. And, uh, the rest, yeah, I – I did it without him noticing."

"What's the point anyhow?" Danny asked. "He's, like, a paranormal investigator for a living, isn't he? It's not like he would have a problem with someone investigating the paranormal."

Dipper dropped the gaze that he'd done such a good job of maintaining all this time, suddenly seeming to find his shoes more interesting to stare at. "It's complicated," he muttered.

"Oh, that's real nice. You want answers from me, you won't take no for an answer, but when I ask _you_ something – "

"It _is_ complicated," Mabel said. "Honestly, we don't even completely get his thought process either. He used to be fine with Dipper and me getting into that sort of stuff, but there was this incident thingy last year and I guess he kind of was guilty about it? And he decided he didn't want us to have to face stuff like that again or something, so he made all these safety rules, doesn't want us doing anything until after he's declared it safe. But he still wants keep up with the magic-y things himself, so he's still studying them, and it's getting all tricky because we're staying with him and Stan because – well, that's sort of a long story, but anyway I guess he's okay with us being _around_ the stuff so long as we don't try and be _involved_ with it? So, yeah, Ford doesn't know about Dipper's research."

Dipper nodded toward her and looked back at Danny, as if he thought that whatever she had said explained everything. It hadn't. In fact, it just left Danny completely confused, and he didn't know what part of it he should question first. He eventually went with, "What sort of incident thingy?"

Mabel and Dipper shared a look between them. "It's… complicated," Mabel answered.

Apparently that was the Pines family motto.

Danny took a deep breath. Fine. He didn't have the time now to go into their family troubles or Ford's hangups or anything of the sort now anyhow, and if he wanted to later, he could always find a way to get info (and it would be awfully hypocritical of Dipper to be at all bothered by his prying if he did). For now, he just didn't want to get further off track. "So – so, bottom line, Ford doesn't know about any of the, ah, the things you've been finding, right?"

"I haven't said a word," Dipper said. He still frowned deeply, but his brows had relaxed enough that he now looked more curious than suspicious. "But why are you so concerned about Ford?"

"I'm not."

"I'm not an idiot, Danny." He folded his arms back over his chest. "What have you got to be worried about when it comes to Ford?"

"Now, Dipper," Jazz said. "Danny has the right to keep that between himself and Ford."

"Fine," Dipper said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "Then I'll ask Ford instead."

Danny stared at him. "You – you said you weren't going to tell Ford about anything. Because you weren't supposed to be looking into it in the first place."

"I said I _haven't_ told Ford anything," Dipper corrected him. "Not that I won't. If it's something so bad that you want this badly to hide it, though, I think it's worth running the risk of getting grounded for a month." Danny opened his mouth, ready to forget about his decision to refrain from use of watershed language, but Dipper cut him off by adding, " _Unless_ you'd rather just tell me now."

It was quite possible that steam actually came out of Danny's ears at that point. "You, Dipper Pines, are a rotten little child, you know that?"

"I've been called worse."

Danny sighed and looked over to Jazz, who lifted her hands in a helpless shrug. Dipper really didn't seem to be leaving him with any options here.

"That will depend on what – "

"He swears," Mabel interrupted, ignoring the look Dipper shot her. Her own eyes had gone round, and she seemed just as interested in what Danny was about to say as her brother was.

Good enough. Danny took a deep breath. "All right. Fine. You were right. About me and Phantom being connected. Phantom's… my twin brother."

Dipper just rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. So that's why your foot healed, huh? You just went and swapped limbs with your brother?"

"… Phantom is my genetic clone, created to be an organ donor."

"Danny."

"Phantom is a figment of my – "

 _"Danny is Phantom!"_ That was Jazz this time, and if the Pines twins hadn't believed her right when she blurted it out, the murderous look Danny gave her confirmed it. "What?" she snapped at Danny. "You know full well he was going to figure it out eventually, especially if he went and got Ford on board, and you weren't going to tell him. Cards are on the table now. And I hope we can count on your discretion," she added toward Dipper and Mabel.

Dipper was frozen in place, as if stunned by the revelation. On the other hand, Mabel's eyes had lit up, and she was staring at Danny with all the enthusiasm of someone watching a particularly instense acrobatics act. "Are you serious?!" she cried. "You're – oh, I should have guessed! I heard a couple people call Phantom 'Danny Phantom' and I actually remember thinking, ha, now isn't _that_ a funny little coincidence! But you're actually the same person?! So Phantom's, like, sort of a superhero, isn't he? Is this your secret identity, then? Which came first, Fenton or Phantom? Or have you always just bounced between the two? Was there ever a ghost-baby version of Phantom? Hey, Dipper, you read comic books, how come you didn't guess that they were the same person?"

Still looking dazed, Dipper hesitantly shook his head. "Because it – it's not possible."

"Dude, you just told me you've dealt with zombies and goblins before," Danny said. "Are you really in the position to be calling anything impossible?"

"No, no, it's – even with the laws of the paranormal universe being taken into account, it doesn't make sense," Dipper said, knocking his hat askew as he reached under it to run a hand through his hair. "The ghosts in Amity Park, they're technically demons, right? So you can't be both human _and_ ghost, human _and_ demon. You can only originate from one dimension. That's – that's just basic physics."

"You know about the ghost-demon thing?" Danny asked. "I thought Ford wasn't letting you in on any of his ghost research."

"He didn't, I looked at his lab notebook while he was sleeping."

"… So have you just, like, never even _heard_ of privacy, or – ?"

"Look, I don't know if maybe you're thinking of just some type of possession-type deal that hasn't been thoroughly explored, or maybe there's some kind of ghost-imprinting thing that I never knew about, but bottom line is, there's no way you can be both Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom at once. It just doesn't make _sense_."

With a huff, Danny stood up from the desk and crossed his. "Fine, you don't believe me? Then believe this. _I'm going ghost_."

That familiarly powerful, icy feeling swept over Danny's body, starting at his middle and spreading over his head and feet in two thick white halos, until Phantom stood in the middle of Dipper's bedroom, arms still defiantly crossed, the snowy hair of Phantom replacing the pitch-dark of Fenton and a soft glow about him sealing the fact that this form was no longer human. Dipper's face instantly went several shades paler. Mabel squealed softly and looked about ready to explode from pure, euphoric excitement.

"Same guy. Ta-da."

"But – but how did – " Dipper spluttered. "It doesn't make _sense_ , with the – the physics, it doesn't – how – _how?_ "

"Dunno," Danny answered. "I'm not a scientist."

"But Ford is!" Mabel said. "Maybe he can figure out what – "

" _No_."

"No?"

"No. Absolutely not. I've heard the sorts of things he says about ghosts, like they're lab mice put in the world purely to satisfy his curiosity. And on top of that, he's working with my parents."

Dipper frowned. "Why is that a bad thing?" he asked. "Wouldn't your parents help make sure he's careful and tactful about the whole thing, if that's what you're worried about." And at Danny's silence, he continued, "Wait, your parents _do_ know about this, right? Well, oh, stupid question, they're ghost experts, of course they know."

"They're ghost hunters."

Silence, and then Dipper said, "Hang on, Ford's said all this time that they're scientists, like him."

"They are," Danny replied. "They're scientists _and_ hunters. And guess which one comes first."

"Well – well, still, this is Uncle Ford," Mabel said. "He can get a little over-eager when it comes to things he's studying, but, I mean, if we explained it all, and he met Phantom, I'm sure there wouldn't be any problems."

"He's not some sort of mad scientist," Dipper added.

"I'm not saying he is," Danny said through a sigh. "But are you going to tell me that every one of those creatures and monsters he's dealt with in the past, he's studied simply by giving them a polite interview?"

"Well, no, but – "

"And do you not think that working shoulder-to-shoulder with two scientists whose life goals are to rip every ghost they meet apart molecule by molecule may have colored his opinion of ghosts?"

"Ford's not – "

"And I'm still not sure I can even trust _you_ to keep this wraps. So, do you honestly think that you can say with one-hundred-percent certainty that Ford would _not_ pose any risk to keeping this information away from ghost hunters or government scientists or Ghost Zone criminals or my _parents_ , all of whom have already tried they're damnedest to kill me?"

"I'm – I'm sure," Dipper said, although his wrinkled brow and his failure to meet Danny's gaze suggested otherwise.

"One hundred percent sure?" Danny prompted.

"… Ninety-nine."

"Not good enough."

"But what if – "

He was interrupted by a knock at the bedroom door. Danny immediately transformed back into his human self before Mabel called, "Come in!"

The knob turned and Stanley leaned in through the doorway. It seemed that since Danny and Jazz had arrived, Stanley had thought to get dressed in a way befitting having company, although the suit, complete with shoulder pads and a string tie, was a bit much. "Food's ready. You two plannin' to stay for dinner?" he asked the Fentons. "Made sloppy joes."

"Sure, we'd love to," Jazz said with a nod before Danny had time to reply. "We'll be down in a minute."

"All right, but hurry it up," Stanley said. "The pig's already managed to sneak some, and I'll be damned if I waste any more quality beef by lettin' that thing have it. Plus, you know, seems too close to cannibalism for my comfort."

"We're coming," Mabel said, and Stan nodded and left the room.

"So now we're staying for dinner?" Danny asked Jazz, glaring at her.

Jazz simply nodded. "It would have been rude to say no. Besides, I'm hungry. Mediating can take a lot of energy."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever, we'll stay. And this conversation isn't over," he added to Dipper as the latter crossed in front of him to reach the door.

"Didn't think it was," Dipper answered, leaving the door open behind him as he left the room and started downstairs.


	16. Chapter 16

*strolls into FFN two months late holding Starbucks*

* * *

If Danny had ever in his life sat through a more uncomfortable dinner, he couldn't recall it. The tension around the kitchen table was palpable as Danny, Jazz, and the Pines family dug into their sloppy joes – which, really, should have been a main course for a laid back, friendly meal.

Jazz was proving her usefulness once again by taking on the burden of dinner conversation with Stanley, answering for the both of them as the man went through a laundry list of questions about their parents and school and the town and their hobbies. Even Mabel, the unstoppable chatterbox, seemed subdued during the meal, opting out of the conversation in favor of concentrating on slipping bits of potato chips and celery down to Waddles, who lay contentedly next to her chair.

Dipper was keeping his head down, and had barely taken so much as a bite from his sandwich, instead idling the time away by twirling his baby carrots around in the ranch dressing and not eating any of them either. Danny would know – he had been keeping a sharp eye on the kid the whole time, looking away only when he absolutely had to. Dipper would peer up from his plate occasionally, but the moment he'd lock eyes with Danny, he'd duck his head down again, pallid and nervous.

Good.

Danny would have been perfectly fine getting through the whole meal that way, just keeping his eye on Dipper while Jazz and Stanley created some white noise in the background, but their conversation was abruptly cut off when Stanley finally noticed his nephew's barely touched plate. "You all right, Dip?" he asked.

Head still down, Dipper nodded. "I'm fine."

"You've hardly made a dent in your supper. Your stomach okay?"

He nodded again and went back to playing with his carrots. Obviously unsatisfied with that response, Stanley opened his mouth, no doubt to start on some followup questions, but Dipper beat him to the punch. "Grunkle Stan, I've got a question."

"Um, all right. Shoot."

"You and Ford did a lot of hunting and researching on monsters and stuff over the past year, right?"

"Was that your question?"

"No, I was – I was wondering. How would you guys handle a monster that was half-human?"

It was a testament to Danny's restraint and maturity that he didn't leap across the table and start trying to strangle Dipper to death then and there. As it was, he held himself back with a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table. He tried to keep his face impassive, although he was sure that his eyes must have looked nothing short of murderous. Mabel had directed her attention back to the table, eyes wide and mouth dropped open into a little 'O' shape. Jazz, meanwhile, had her brow wrinkled and lips pressed in a thin line, looking like she would much rather be anywhere in the world right now besides here in this kitchen.

Fortunately, though, Stanley didn't seem to have noticed the shift in the room, or if he had, he chose not to react to it. Instead he replied, "Why do you ask?"

"We're, ah, we read some short stories in English class," Dipper said. "We're starting a horror unit, Edgar Allen Poe and Shirley Jackson and the like, and one of the ones we read had this sort of creature thing that – that got me thinking…"

Danny raised a brow. That lie came much more smoothly than any of the others he'd heard from Dipper. He wondered if maybe he'd been spending the whole dinner so far coming up with and mentally rehearsing it. Whatever the case, Danny could relax his grip a little now that Dipper had refrained from spilling the beans. For now, anyway.

"Huh, half-human," Stanley said. "Wait, you've met half-human stuff before, haven't you? Mabel told me you two had met a merman last summer. Isn't that just half-human, half-fish?"

"I meant, um, not like one where half the body's human, half's something else. More like, uh, like it could go back and forth, sometimes human, sometimes not."

"Like a werewolf, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." Stanley drummed his fingers against the table. "Well, that would depend."

"On what?" That was Jazz asking this time. Danny had already nearly forgotten she was there, he had been concentrating so hard on the conversation between Dipper and Stanley.

"A couple of things. One would be what the non-human half was. Whether or not it was somethin' dangerous. Ford told me that one place he'd gone, he met some people who could turn into animals, and they were mostly a mixed bag, but none of them deadly or nothin'. Apparently there was one lady who could transform into a hamster at will. Ain't exactly much of a threat. But even some of the more dangerous animals, as long as the person kept a cool head on their shoulders, it didn't much matter. That's the other factor, I figure – how much control the human half has versus the non-human half."

The fraction-of-a-second glance Dipper threw toward Danny was almost imperceptible. "So, if the human half's in control…"

"Then it's probably not somethin' to be too worried about." Stanley took a bite of his sandwich and continued through his mouthful, "Course, there's always exceptions. Even if the human half's in charge, it ain't like every human being is a picnic. Most people, sure, if they find out they can transform into some sort of monster, they'd try to keep it on the down low, but there's always gonna be some whacko out there who'll be all, hey, I've got fangs, let's see what these chompers can do.

"In fact, don't know if Ford ever told you about it, but while we were sailin' back from the Arctic, we were docked in this town in Nunavut, and we dug into the local lore. Apparently a couple years ago, some newcomer had traveled up there from Hudson Bay, seemed a nice enough man, but not long after, people started goin' missing. Turns out the dude was a Tamma– a Tammi– well, a Tamma-something, don't remember the name of it, I'll have to ask Ford later. Point bein' he was this creepy-as-hell cannibal monster thing that could take human form when it wanted. Took the people in the town months to pin him down."

"What'd they do when they found him out?" Dipper asked.

"Skewered him with a harpoon, I think. Least, that's what I was told."

"…Oh."

"What a way to go, though, ain't it. You doin' okay there, Danny?" Stanley asked, and Danny barely managed not to jump in his seat at suddenly being addressed. "You're lookin' a little green around the gills. Sloppy joe not sittin' well with you? Wait – uh, your parents did brief you on what mine and Ford's line of work did, didn't they? This isn't all, uh, all a shock to you, is it? Geez, I didn't, um…"

"They did," Jazz cut in. "It's all right, we're familiar."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Danny said. He grimaced at the slight squeak that slipped out in his voice, and cleared his throat. "I'm – I'm fine," he repeated. "Probably just the sloppy joe, like you said."

"I could whip up somethin' lighter for you if you want. Toast and peanut butter's usually okay when your stomach's kinda off."

"No, um, no thank you. I'll just stick to the side dishes for now."

"If you're sure." He turned back to Dipper. "That answer your question, Dip?"

Dipper swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, that, uh, that – actually, um, one other thing. What if – what if it was a ghost?"

Stanley quirked a brow. "Like, a were-creature that's _also_ a ghost, or – ?"

"No, I mean, like what if that was the non-human half? Half-human, half-ghost?"

Stanley shook his head. "Don't think that's possible. That would mean that they're both alive and dead, wouldn't it? And that just ain't a thing, no matter what that one stupid scientist with the cat said."

"But what about the type of ghosts here in Amity Park?" Dipper pressed. "They're different than the ones back in Gravity Falls, aren't they? Like, they're not just imprints from dead humans, they're kind of a separate thing."

"Ford told you about that? I thought he said he was keepin' his research to himself until he had some more safety measures in place for you kids."

Dipper dropped his gaze and fidgeted in his seat. "Well, uh, he told me _some_ stuff. Just a quick overview."

"Huh." Stanley took a bite of his sandwich, face pensive as he chewed. "Eh, I figure it's still not possible. Accordin' to Ford, the ghosts around here are technically demons, right? From a different dimension. So if something was going to be only half-demon, that would mean they, like, came from two different dimensions at once. Wouldn't work."

"But, hypothetically, if that were possible, what do you think? Would it be a threat?"

"What's it matter? I've been sayin', it's not like you're gonna have to deal with one. Want me to come up with a protocol in case of a tooth-fairy invasion while we're at it?"

Mabel whipped her head toward him, eyes wide. "Wait, what do you mean? The tooth fairy's real, right?"

"Wha – Mabel, you're jokin' right? You're fourteen years old."

Mabel stared at her uncle for another few seconds before giving him a shaky smile. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Pfft, of course I – I know. Just kidding. _Obviously_ the tooth fairy's, uh… not real… yeah." She ducked her head down, but Danny could still see the thousand-yard stare glassing over her eyes.

Dipper cleared his throat. "So, um, about my, uh – "

"Right," Stanley said with a nod. "Well, I figure if there actually were some kind of half-human, half-ghost-slash-demon or whatever those things around here are, it would probably be a pretty big problem. I mean, come on, demons are bad enough news without the bonus of blending easily into society. So Ford and I would probably go for eliminatin' the threat."

There was a second's pause as Dipper chewed anxiously at his lip before asked, "But – but a ghost – a demon – it wouldn't automatically be bad, would it? It's just a being from a different dimension, so, other dimensions must have both good and bad in them."

"Yeah, but the good ones have the decency to not go raidin' other dimensions. Come on, Dip, how many demons have you met who are just here to see the sights and relax, versus how many who want to see the whole place transformed into a freakin' hellscape just for the spectacle of it?"

Danny glanced back and forth between Stanley's serious gaze and Dipper's sheepish frown. Ford had mentioned, hadn't he, something about having encountered demons of some sort in the past, but he hadn't given much by way of details. If that past experience, though, was really as bad as Stanley had just made it out to be, that might explain why Dipper seemed so keyed up about ghosts.

It didn't make it right, of course, but it was an explanation.

"So I guess you and Ford would…"

"Put that thing back where it came from," Stanley finished with a shrug. "From what I've seen, that's usually how the ghosts are handled around these parts anyhow. And if that doesn't work or ain't an option, then try and kill it before it can kill us. Not pleasant, but sometimes it's gotta be done."

The silence that followed that declaration was deafening, the only sounded breaking through it the soft chewing of Stanley continuing his meal. He seemed to notice it after a few moments, and grimaced. "Well, geez, don't go all quiet on my account. Sorry, that probably wasn't great dinner conversation. Don't know how much you two get involved in the business anyway," he added to Danny and Jazz.

"Oh, it's – it's fine," Jazz said, in a voice that was too chipper and with a smile that was too perky. "I find the whole field rather interesting, actually. But more as just an observer. We'll have to ask Ford for some anecdotes at some point, won't we, Danny? Perhaps get some insight on different ghosts. Apparently the ones around here are pretty different from the ones in California."

Stanley furrowed his brow. "Uh, probably? I wouldn't know."

"Oh. I thought Dipper said you've encountered some ghosts in the past."

"I have. What's that got to do with California?"

"Isn't that where you're from?"

"That's where Dipper and I are from," Mabel said. "Grunkle Stan's from Oregon."

"Long story," Stanley said with a shrug. "Bottom line, these two spent a couple summers with me, and now we're testin' out a year-round thing."

"Ah," Jazz said, nodding at the scant explanation; she still wore a puzzled frown, but as much as she liked to pry into the lives of her own family, Danny knew she tended to spare other families the same treatment.

However, it turned out that prying wouldn't have been necessary. Dipper took a deep breath, shoved his plate away, and turned to her. "It was kinda my fault, actually."

"Uh, Dip," Stanley grunted. "You don't gotta – "

"No, it's all right, I want to tell them," Dipper said, waving his uncle away before continuing. "The summer before last, Mabel and I spent up in Oregon with Grunkle Stan. And the town he lived in was, um, well, it was weird. Like, I know you've got weird stuff going on in Amity Park, but trust me, Gravity Falls has got you beat. And – and that was kinda our first time actually going head-to-head with all this paranormal stuff, and it was a _lot_. A lot to take in. At the time, I guess we sort of had the adrenaline going to keep some of it from sinking in all the way, and a bunch of it was actually pretty fun anyway, with some exceptions, but, uh, well, when we went back to Piedmont for the school year, we didn't, uh… we had some trouble adjusting. Kinda dumb stuff, really, nightmares and things like that. Apparently once you've dealt with that stuff, it's kinda hard to go back to normal. We sorta did a rotten job of it."

"Hey, hey, I've told you not to beat yourself up like that," Stanley scolded him. "Trust me, first time I was exposed to all that paranormal crap, I basically had a mental breakdown montage. You and Mabel handled yourselves like champs."

"Still. It was enough for Mom and Dad to get worried."

"Well, more _confused_ than worried, actually," Mabel said. "Your doodles probably didn't help much, Dipping Sauce."

"They were therapeutic!"

"They were dumb."

" _Anyway_. We basically, uh, didn't come back quite right, and they noticed. I think they might have thought part of it was just, you know, kids going through weird phases during middle school. They talked to the school counselor about it a couple of times, and he started sitting down with us and having us share our feelings or whatever. Standard stuff. But we pretty much faked our way through everything, and Mom and Dad figured that whatever it was, it was under control.

"And then – " Dipper sighed. "Then I blew it. There was – well, for a bit of context, one of the creatures – one of the demons – " He tentatively chanced a glance toward Danny. " – back in Gravity Falls was kind of, uh, worse than the others. Like, the Joker meets H. P. Lovecraft basically. And he – he had this habit of giving people these stupid little nicknames. Anyway, at school this kid transferred in who sorta shared that tendency, that nicknaming thing. Don't think he ever called anyone by their actual name, and he switched it every time. I only had one class with him and I still can't believe how many puns and variations based on 'Dipper' and 'Pine' he could come up with. And well, at one point, I guess it was bound to happen eventually, he, ah, he used the same nickname as the – as the demon from over the summer. It was just some stupid thing, just saying hi in the hallway during passing period, but, I, um…"

"He snapped," Mabel supplied.

Dipper grimaced, but he nodded. "Yeah, basically. I just – I don't really know what came over me. One moment I'm just putting books in my locker, the next I'm tackling a kid and throwing punches and – and I didn't even think about it, it just _happened_. I'd never gotten into a fight at school or anything before. Never even gotten detention."

Stanley let out a dry chuckle that didn't seem to reach his eyes. "Well, hey, I figure givin' someone else a black eye is just one of those milestones everyone passes in their life at some point."

"Wish I hadn't had to fracture my nose and chip a tooth to reach it though," Dipper muttered.

"Oh, yeah, he was surprisingly good at defense," Mabel said. "I was honestly impressed."

A hint of red appeared on Dipper's cheeks before he cleared his throat and continued. "Well, to cut to the chase, I got suspended, and that was when Mom and Dad finally officially decided something was up."

"Guess that was about when I got a call from them," Stanley said. "Gist of it was, hey, we think you broke our kids. Must have noticed the timeline."

"And yet _somehow_ ," Dipper continued, "they ended up figuring that we weren't having these problems when we were staying with Stan, they only actually started when we came _back_. It was nearing the end of the school year at the time, so they started making plans to have us stay with him again and sort of have him report back on how we were holding up. I still don't know how you managed to convince them that was a good idea."

"It was Ford's doin', actually," Stanley replied with a shrug. "Took over the phone for a couple hours. Don't know quite what he said; I wasn't in the mood to listen to him talk for that long. All I know for sure is that he insists he didn't use some kind of magic charm or somethin' to sway their stance, and I'm not sure I believe him."

"So I take it the arrangement worked out?" Jazz asked.

"Yep," Stanley said, as Dipper and Mabel nodded their affirmation. "Far as I could see, they were back to their old selves pretty quick."

"We thought at first that it was just being back in Gravity Falls that helped," Mabel said. "And that's definitely part of it, but, things were still going well even when we left town for a couple of weeks with Stan and Ford. To Colorado. What was the name of that place we went to?"

"St. Elmo," Dipper answered.

"Oh yeah. The ghost town named after a holy muppet."

"Mabel, how many times are you going to tell that 'joke' before you realize it's not funny?"

"As many times as it takes."

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Great. Well, anyway, I guess the summer went well, so Mom and Dad talked with Stan and Ford and ended up making plans for us to try staying with them during the school year. On a trial basis, though. They, uh, they made it pretty clear that if any of the, um, the problems from last year started up again, Mabel and I had better get on the first plane back to California. So – " He took a deep breath. "There you go. That's the Cliffnotes version."

Jazz was nodding thoughtfully, and Danny had to fight to keep from growning at her expression – the focused, pensive expression that always seemed to say, 'I've just decided what I want to do for my next psychological pet project.'

"Welp," Stanley said, clapping his hands together. "There's the end of story time. If you're all done eatin', I'll start clearin' off the table."

"I'll help!" Mabel said, reaching across the table to start collecting plates.

"Dipper, you sure you don't wanna eat any more?"

Dipper shook his head. "I'm good."

"I'm puttin' it in the fridge anyhow if you wanna nuke it later."

"All right." Dipper scooted his chair back and stood up. "I'm gonna head on upstairs, finish up that homework." He gave Danny and Jazz a quick nod goodbye before slipping out of the room and up the stairs.

"Are you two stickin' around?" Stanley asked. "Or do you need to finish up that homework too?"

Jazz looked to Danny, who shrugged. "I guess we're good to head out. Thank you very much for the meal, Mr. Pines."

"Hey, it was just sloppy joes," he grunted. "Save those proper manners for when I make lobster." He scooped up his own plate and joined Mabel, who was already at the sink getting started on the dishes.

Jazz gestured to Danny to follow her as she made her way to the front door, but stopped when she noticed he hadn't moved. Instead, he was staring up the stairs, his face drawn in a tight frown. "You coming, Danny?" she asked.

"Yeah, um – actually, you can go on ahead and start the car. I think I left something upstairs."

"Mm. Figured you might have," Jazz said, a knowing glint in her eye. "Well, don't take too long."

"I won't."

Danny stood from the table and made his way back up the stairs. He didn't bother knocking on Dipper's door, instead simply walking in as if he'd done it a million times before. Dipper had been at his desk, starting to gather the scattered books and papers together, but he paused and looked up at Danny's entrance. "Hey," was all he said.

"Hey," Danny replied. "Why did you tell me all that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you and Mabel and Stanley, you all just said 'it's a long story' and I didn't push. So why the sudden switch?"

Dipper shrugged, and he chewed at his lip for a moment before slowly answering, "I dunno. I guess, um – you know, you'd already revealed your big secret to me, right? I, uh, I figure it's the least I could do. I mean, like, it's not anywhere near your thing, but, uh – well, it's something."

"You didn't have to."

"I know." He let out a long, slow breath. "Listen, I – I'm not gonna tell. I promise. I know I seemed sorta on the fence about it earlier, but – "

"Yeah," Danny said flatly. "After what Stanley said, you'd have to be something of a sociopath to still think blabbing was a good idea."

Dipper winced, but he didn't argue the point. "Well, just know, you don't have to worry about that. I'll – I'll stick to researching the other ghosts around here from now on. Just the ones that cause problems. I, um, I can toss out the stuff I've got on you, if – if you want…"

"Thanks." The two of them were silent for a moment, until Danny asked, "You got a pen?"

"Huh?"

"A pen. And a scrap of paper."

"Um, yeah…" Dipper picked up a pen and a pad of Post-It notes from the desk and held them out for Danny. "Why?"

Danny uncapped the pen and held the lid between his teeth as he scrawled on the Post-It. "Need to give you my cell number," he said. "Text me yours."

"Uh, okay?"

"And I'm gonna let you know once my parents will be out of the house for a while. Jazz could probably give you and Mabel a ride."

The confused frown creasing Dipper's face deepened. "Wait, why?"

"Because." He snapped the cap back onto the pen and handed it and the note back to Dipper. "You're a smart kid, but you're not much of a ghost fighter. Yeah, I know, you've done some research – " he said, holding up a hand to cut Dipper off when he opened his mouth to interrupt. " – but if you and Mabel really want to go up against the ghosts around here, you're gonna need a lot of work. And I can help with that."

"Are – are you offering to train us?"

"Yeah. Just, you know, you're already kinda in the know here, and I really don't wanna turn on the news at some point and find out you two got killed in a ghost attack because you were trying to, I dunno, pray the ghost away or something."

Dipper blushed and folded his arms. "I'm more competent than _that_ , you know."

"You splashed me with holy water."

"… Fair point."

"So are you in?"

Dipper seemed to think it over for a few moments, staring up into Danny's face. Danny wasn't sure what he was looking for in his expression, but he must have found whatever it was, because he slowly nodded and said, "I'm in. I figure Mabel's in too."

"Great. Looks like I'll see you soon then." He turned to leave, but as he reached for the door, he paused to look back over his shoulder to add, "And Dipper?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't think I've said it yet, so: welcome to Amity Park."

He continued out the door, and although he didn't look back to see for certain, he was pretty sure that, out of the corner of his eye as he turned away, he saw Dipper smile.


	17. Chapter 17

"Everything go all right?" Jazz asked as Danny slid into the car, collapsing into the passenger seat.

"Yeah," he answered. "I think. He swore he wouldn't tell Ford anything."

"And you're sure you believe him?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, I do. And, I mean, even if I didn't, not like there's much I can do about it. That was quite a gamble you took there."

"We're ghost hunters keeping deadly secrets from everyone from our own parents to the federal government; our whole life is a gamble. And it isn't as though leaps of faith haven't paid off before." She turned the key in the ignition and put her hand on the gear shift. "Seatbelt, Danny."

"Maybe I'd rather just keep it unbuckled. You know, as a leap of faith."

Jazz gave him a light shove. "Don't get smart. It doesn't suit you." She waited for him to relent and buckle up before she started driving. "You've got nothing to complain about, anyhow. It went well, didn't it? Having those two on our side will probably help keep Ford from managing to get on your tail as well. Dipper could probably intervene if he starts looking into Phantom. Sabotage his research or something."

"I dunno. Sure, he's not gonna help Ford with it, but I don't know if he'd go so far as messing up research. He seems like the type who'd have some kind of code of honor about that."

"Hm. Well, he could at least keep an eye out, let us know if Ford's onto anything. We can do the sabotaging ourselves."

Danny turned to look quizzically at her. "How so?"

"He keeps a lot of research and lab work in Mom and Dad's lab. We've got easy access if we need to change or dispose of anything."

"Wait, you're – you're really endorsing vandalizing someone's property?"

"If we need to, yes." She darted her eyes to him just long enough to catch the smirk on his face. "What's that look for?"

Danny's grin widened. "You're a bad influence on me, Jazz."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "I'm not, and you know it."

"You totally are. You are encouraging misconduct. You're an enabler for my misdeeds."

"Knock it off, Danny."

"Next you're going to try and convince me to take up smoking because all the cool kids are doing it."

"Don't even joke about that."

Danny snorted. "You're no fun. Oh, by the way, do you happen to know if Mom and Dad have plans to be out of the house for a while any time soon? Like, for an afternoon or something?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"I need a time for Dipper and Mabel to come over so I can give them a crash course on our ghost-hunting equipment."

"Wait, what?" Jazz stomped on the brakes, and Danny lurched forward in his seat. "You're bringing them onto the team?"

"Yeah, I was planning to," Danny said, raising a brow. "They've hunted ghosts and stuff before, so I just need to teach them about Amity-Park-style ghosts and how to work all the tech. Why're you bent out of shape about it?"

"I'm not, I – I just – " She chewed at her lip for a moment before continuing, "Isn't it a bit soon to be taking a step like that? We've known them for less than a week. You can't be sure how well they'd even mesh with the team. And – and besides, don't you think it'd be dangerous for them to have ghost-hunting equipment with them or at their place, giving Ford easier access?"

"I really don't think it's anywhere near as dangerous as having an entire house full of ghost-killing novelty items within such easy reach of our parents. Seriously, Jazz, what gives? I thought you were going to take a gamble on them."

"I know, but the gamble was sort of a saving throw, not an open invitation. I mean, really, it's right out of nowhere! Considering how much convincing it took you to even let me onto the team, I didn't expect you to start throwing membership around willy-nilly like that!"

"Wait," Danny said, holding up a hand. "That's why it bothers you? Because I let them in quicker than you?" He let out a bark of laughter. "Oh my god, Jazz, are you actually jealous?!"

"No!" Jazz snapped, but the pink tint seeping into her cheeks said otherwise.

"Holy cheese, Jazz! Wow! Wow. Oh my god, we need to psychoanalyze this, like, right now. Where do you think this envy is stemming from, Jazz? Do you want to talk about your childhood for a while? Maybe draw a picture of what you're feeling?"

Jazz started driving again with a huff. "I'd rather you just shut up, actually."

"Fine. For now. As a thank-you for driving me. But I am definitely going to be bringing this up every single time I deem it relevant from this day forward."

"Oh, hush." Despite the bitterness in her tone, she still allowed a hint of a smile for Danny. "You know, I'm glad to see talking things out with Dipper has put you in a bit of a better mood. You've been kinda pouty the past couple of days."

Danny shrugged. "Yeah, well, having a bunch of newcomers start trying to dig into your life secrets can be a bit of a mood killer." He paused for a moment, mouth fading from his grin into a more serious line. "Actually, I – I'm still sort of worried about that whole deal."

"About Dipper?"

"No, about the secret. The double-identity thing. It's just, Dipper got me thinking a bit." He shifted in his seat, leaning forward so Jazz could see him in her periphery without taking her eyes from the road. "We've been lucky so far, haven't we? Hiding it. The tiny handful of people who know about me and Phantom were either really close to me or wouldn't dare tell anyone. And then, just like that, some family moves into town and within a week one of them's figured it out. Well, not figured it out exactly, but definitely got close enough for it to be a problem."

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking… I dunno. Maybe I'm thinking we're kinda walking on thin ice or something? Like, Danny Phantom hasn't exactly been keeping a low profile, and even though Danny Fenton's not in the spotlight, it isn't as though there aren't people who are aware of his existence. How long's it going to be before someone whose seen human me and ghost me plenty of times to start putting the pieces together? It's not like my ghost form's a hideous monster or something; it's still recognizable as me. It's me-shaped. I just – " He ran a hand through his hair. "I wonder how long we're going to be able to keep this up before it goes up in flames."

Jazz pursed her lips together, drumming her fingers against her steering wheel as she seemed to be thinking it over. After several silent seconds, she finally asked, "Are you familiar with Henry Cavill? The actor?"

"… Oh, we're just switching topics now? Time for celebrity gossip?"

"No, I'm going somewhere with this," Jazz said, rolling her eyes. "Cavill's the guy who's currently playing Superman in all those movies. The Marvel universe or whatever."

"DC. And I don't watch those. Can't beat the original films."

"Not the point. The point is, apparently it's sort of a long-running joke about Superman, that there's no way that just wearing a pair of glasses would be a good enough disguise to work as a secret identity, because it must be so obvious that he and Clark Kent are the same person. But this actor guy thought that people were really overestimating their ability to recognize familiar faces. So he goes out to Time Square and he hangs around right near a billboard for his movie, and he doesn't even bother with glasses and even wears a Superman T-shirt. And no one recognized him."

Danny frowned. "So, um… what exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it is pretty incredible what people can fail to see even when it's right in front of their faces. I even read in one of my psychology journals – " She ignored Danny's groan. " – about a study some people did, at University of York I think, where participants tried to recognize if two photos were of the same person. And even with just one change, like adding glasses or shaving or hair dyeing or wearing a hat, people suddenly had much more trouble with it, and kept mistaking them for different people.

"And that was when people were actually looking for it, trying to recognize matching faces. With you and Phantom, no one's searching for similarities. No one's trying to figure out who Phantom's human form is, because, as far as all but half a dozen people in the world know, he doesn't _have_ a human form to look for. No one has any reason to think there's any sort of disguising or secret identities going on. So even if Danny Phantom didn't have a different outfit and eye and hair colors and glowed green and had an echo-y voice and everything, people still probably wouldn't catch on if they weren't actually going out of their way to look for a connection."

"Okay," Danny said slowly. "But Dipper still – "

"Dipper's an outlier," Jazz said. "He's got this obsession for learning about the paranormal, and he's being raised by someone else with the same obsession. Not to mention, his first encounter with you involved you slipping up and reacting to a ghost weapon which meant he's been on the alert the whole time, and judging by what he and Stan were saying at dinner, he's fairly paranoid in the first place. I guess if anyone were to figure everything out, it would be him, but even he didn't actually come to the right conclusion on his own. He was digging into conspiracy theories, and I'm certain that if he'd tried to share his findings with anyone besides his immediate family, he would just sound like one of those tinfoil hats on the internet trying to create excitement where there isn't any. I mean, you saw that Bigfoot map in his room."

Danny's brow wrinkled in thought. "You know, now you've kinda got me wondering how many of those tinfoil hats might be onto something. Seeing as most of those theories aren't any more outlandish than my actual life. I'm gonna have to rethink some stuff."

"Sorry. Wasn't my intention. All I'm trying to say is, I don't want you to start worrying yourself sick over something that probably won't be a problem for you. You've got enough on your plate already, and it won't help anything."

"I know, but…" He took a deep breath. "I know Dipper and Ford are, like, a rare case, but they're not completely unique. There are other people out there who want to dive into paranormal conspiracy theories too. And if any of those people happen onto Amity Park, well – I'm just worried that the next Dipper Pines who comes along won't be able to be reasoned with."

Jazz sighed. "I know. I guess – I guess I get it. Look, I don't know how much we can do for that, but maybe next time we're together with Sam and Tucker, we can brainstorm. See if we can come up with some sort of protocol for handling, um, leaked information. It's not much, but it's something."

"Yeah." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay."

Jazz gave him a small smile before removing her seatbelt and pushing open her door. "You getting out?"

Danny blinked and turned to look out the window. Huh. He hadn't even noticed them arriving back at Fentonworks or the car coming to a stop; he wasn't even sure how long they'd been sitting in the driveway. He shook his, trying to get himself focused to the world around him again as he followed Jazz out of the car. "Hey, Jazz?" he said as he swung his door closed.

"What?"

"Do you – do you think the moon landing might have been faked?"

"Let's not do this."

* * *

"I'm telling you, Curly, this dream juice you're pumping? Best thing I ever had."

Nocturne wished Bill would stop calling it 'dream juice'. It seemed almost disrespectful toward the wondrous and complex metaphysical energy produced by dreams, and it wasn't as though it could be drunk like a liquid; it moved from being to being in a manner that was something beyond physical and temporal. It was not juice.

Then again, he also wished that Bill would stop calling him 'Curly', but the triangle seemed pretty set in his ways where nomenclature was concerned.

"I mean it, pal, this stuff's nirvana. Wish you'd come and paid me a visit ages ago, we could have been sharing it all this time. Man, it's like crack. You ever had crack, Curly?"

"No."

"Neither have I. We should try it together."

Nocturne closed his eyes for several seconds before opening them again, face steadier. Even for as brief a time as he'd known Bill, he already had had to devise methods to calmly deal with his unceasingly irritating nature. "I take it, then, that the energy has had a positive effect."

"Boy howdy. Give it a few more days, and I think I might even have the strength back to start making some little alterations around here. Nothing big yet, I don't think, but it's coming. How do you think I should decorate this place once I'm up for it, huh?" He squinted and held his hands up in front of him, thumbs and forefingers forming a rectangle like he was planning his framing for a photograph, and he tilted his hands to pick his view; well, actually, his hands stayed still while the rest of him, and the rest of the mindscape, tilted instead. "I'm thinking Southern gothic. Either that or luau-themed. Maybe both. Mash 'em up like potatoes. Or bones."

"Mm. Well, I'm glad to see my end of the deal is to your satisfaction."

"Is it ever. I'm liking you more and more, Curly. We ought to hang out sometime outside of business hours."

Nocturne kept his face straight. "I'd rather not."

"Is it 'cause of the stick in your ass? Don't wanna have fun? I can be boring too, if you'd like. We can discuss global politics and high literature." Out of thin air a monocle complete with a dangling gold chain popped onto his face over his eye and a wooden pipe appeared in his hand, blowing a steady stream of bubbles. "I've got some thoughts on Dante's _Inferno_ that'll melt your mind."

"I think I'd prefer we keep remain professional about this," Nocturne grunted. "We're making progress in getting back to form; that should remain our focus."

"Eh, guess you're right," Bill said. He passed the pipe into his other hand, and as he did it transformed into a bubble wand, billowing out ribbons of gray smoke. "Can't say it's not good to be seeing results. About time, too. We're over forty thousand words in, we really need something to show for it."

"What?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Just keep up the good work and we'll be setting things in motion soon enough."

"Speaking of which," Nocturne said slowly, "What, if I may ask, is your aim here? You've promised me power, but you've not told me how you intend to go about acquiring it."

"Ah ah ah." Bill wagged a condescending finger toward Nocturne. "You don't have the security clearance for that, big guy. But you don't gotta worry your pretty little head about it. The gears are in motion around the clock, and I've got all the blueprints. Once I hammer out a couple of bugs, we'll be ready to party."

"Bugs?"

"Oh, you know," Bill said, turning around to look up towards the mindscape's facsimile of a sky. "Just a few complications I gotta work around. Pine Tree here's got a fun mind to play around in, but he's also a difficult little cuss to work with. Last time I took the joystick in here, he kept trying to throw a wrench into everything I was doing."

"You've had control of him before, then."

"Yep," Bill answered. He was still staring out at the expanse of the mindscape instead of looking back at Nocturne, but the latter tried not to let that annoy him. "Hell of a ride. Up until his mental form managed to get hold of another vessel and everything went top-down."

Nocturne frowned. "You allowed his out to do as it pleased?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't really have much of a choice. He wasn't about to share his head willingly like his uncle did, and without that in, that was the only way I could hijack the stupid thing. But you know that, right? You can't honestly be saying you have done your share of possessing."

"Overshadowing."

"Yeah, potayto, potahto."

"Actually, no. Possession and overshadowing are quite distinct. And overshadowing is far more efficient."

Bill froze in place, back still turned, and was silent for several seconds. Then, rather than turning around, he let his eye sink through his form to open on the other side with a sound like a cannonball slurping through wet cement, rolling into position to affix on Nocturne. "You don't say. How do you go about 'overshadowing', then?"

"It's in the names, really," Nocturne explained. "When you possess, you take ownership. You either usurp the current occupant of the vessel, or you share it, co-own the vessel and take charge when the primary occupant delegates it to you. In both cases, you get the control, but the other mental form, the other soul, is still cognizant. It has the capability to interfere.

"With overshadowing, the vessel's occupant remains, but you eclipse it. You force it into a part of the mindscape where they can't have access to the physical controls, hide it away. Keep it subdued. There are methods of bending the mindscape to propel yourself to the front. Essentially, you push the other soul down, rather than to the side."

"Fascinating," Bill said, and it was one of those rare occasions wherein that word is used in sincerity rather than sarcasm. "And you, you can pull off this overshadowing thing?"

"Yes."

"Is this an innate thing, or do you think it can be learned?"

"I suppose, theoretically, so long as one has entry to otherdimensional planes in mindscapes or soulscapes, they could acquire the skill secondhand."

"Well, Curly, you know how I said we ought to hang out sometime besides when you're dropping off the dream juice?"

"It's not – " Nocturne cut himself off, remembering that that particular argument was futile. "Yes, I recall."

"I think I just decided what our friend-time activity should be." With a little _pop!_ , a desk appeared around Bill, an old-century style type with a curving wooden seat and decorative wrought iron on the sides. Bill sat in it and folded his hands politely on top of the desk like a prim schoolchild. "And there's no time like the present to start. Come on, teacher. Teach me things."


End file.
